Saint Wagner
by Tergon
Summary: Bobby's pranks get out of hand, Kurt's patience is tested, and the gang has fun with the Church. For a limited definition of fun.
1. St Kurt the Irritated

**Saint Wagner**

Disclaimer: If I was making money from this, it'd be because I'm an employee of Marvel. If that were the case, it'd be Canon. Since it's not Canon, we can logically surmise that all standard disclaimers apply from here on in.

_This fic is a birthday present for the dearly-beloved InterNutter. Long may she, uh, Nut? Iunno. In any case, Happy Birthday, Bubi. Love ya!_

* * *

**Chapter 1: St. Kurt the Irritated**

_Let's see here… bill, bill, junkmail, bill, letter for Scott, letter for Dr. McCoy, bill, package for Rahne, junkmail… and one for me?_

Holding the rest of the mail in his hands, Kurt brought the envelope up to his mouth, ripped it open with his teeth, and held the letter aloft in his tail.

**Dear Mr. Wagner,  
Having received your nomination for Canonization dated on the 12th, we have elected to send to local representatives of the Roman Catholic Church to interview and assess your potential for this honour. Very few people are considered to the extent to which you are; however, the impressive nature of your nomination has led us to conclude that further examination is warranted before your official canonization and declaration as a Saint of the Roman Catholic Church…**

Kurt stopped, shook his head, and read the letter again. It didn't change. He carefully bit down on his own tongue until it hurt. He wasn't dreaming. He waved his tail back and forth in front of his eyes. He wasn't hallucinating.  
Then, having established all of this, he took the next logical step, which involved taking a deep breath, throwing his head back, and –  
"BOBBY!"

Over at the table, Jean winced and looked over at him. "Kurt, is the volume really necessary at this time of morning?"  
Kurt made a face at the offending letter and nodded. "Yes, actually. I appear to have some mail I'd rather not have received."  
Jean sipped her coffee. "Case in point?"  
"Apparently I've been nominated for Sainthood."  
All activity at the breakfast table stopped dead.  
"Come again?" said the Professor.  
"Someone nominated me to become a Saint."  
"Since when are you a Saint?" Scott wanted to know. "Don't you have to be dead to be a Saint?"  
Kurt sighed. "Technically, no. There's no list of requirements to become a Saint, you just have to have lived a life worthy of it. That usually means you're dead, but in theory it doesn't have to."  
"And you think Bobby did it?" Kitty wanted to know.  
"Name me three other people who'd do it."  
"Todd, Pietro, an' one of your buddies from Heirelgart," Rogue said promptly.  
"_Ja_, but I can't yell at them right now – BOBBY!"  
Bobby's voice floated down the stairwell. "Whaddya want? 'S early."  
"It's a quarter of eleven!"  
"That's early. What is it?"  
"Did you nominate me for Canonization?"  
"Yeah, maybe, a little bit. Why?"  
Kurt closed his eyes and counted to five. "Because I just got a letter about it."

A bleary-eyed Bobby appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in boxers, shirt and dressing gown. "Oh, awesome. They made you a Saint yet?"  
"Canonization's just the process of becoming a Saint. You only signed him up for that," Kitty pointed out. "And are those my slippers?"  
Bobby looked down at the pink bunny slippers, then started descending the stairs. "Damnit, Kitty, it's too early for that. One thing at a time – Kurt, what did the Church say?"  
Kurt glared at him. "They want to interview me."  
"Oh, awesome. You know what they say, an interview is the first step to getting the job."  
"They say that about working part-time at Gut Bomb," Scott observed, adding milk to his Count Chocula. "I think becoming a Saint is a little bit different."  
"True, but the principle remains the same," Bobby declared, flopping down into a chair next to Rogue. "The point is, the guy's taking the first step."  
"How did you even get the Church to consider this?" Kurt demanded. "Canonization is not a joke!"  
"Huh? Oh, right." Bobby yawned and reached for the juice. "I might've pretended I was a Priest from New York, I'm not sure. Don't expect me to remember every little detail about the things I do at this time of the morning, it's unreasonable."  
"You impersonated a Priest?"  
"Priest, Bishop, whatever. Something along those lines."  
Kurt opened and closed his mouth a few times; the Professor frowned. "Bobby, really now. There are some things you shouldn't joke about. And mail fraud is a serious matter."  
Bobby shrugged and sipped at his juice. "No worse than most of the other things that go on here. Hell, some of us are technically breaking a bunch of laws by being alive. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? 'S not like they can punish Kurt for not being holy enough."  
"He does have a point," Jubilee pointed out. Kurt glared at her.  
"Oh, please. You were probably in on this!"  
"Of course I was. You think Bobby wrote the recommendation on his own? Guy can barely spell."  
"I can too!" Bobby protested.  
"Bigger than five-letter words, sweetie."  
"Oh."  
Kurt tossed the mail onto the table and rubbed at his face with both hands. "This is not something to joke about! It's serious!"  
Bobby reached over and patted Kurt on the arm. "Kurt, my man – anything that's too serious to joke about is something that definitely needs joking about."  
"I don't make fun of people's faith!"  
"Yes you do," Jamie piped up. "You were making fun of me the other day 'cause I was hoping the Yankees would win the baseball."  
Kurt glowered at him. "That's different and you know it."  
"So?"  
Kurt closed his eyes and whimpered. "I should not have to live in a world where statements like that are coherent arguments."  
"Everyone," the Professor cut in. "Please. Bobby, this is really not appropriate. You're making a mockery of something very meaningful and personal to Kurt. Matters of faith are not things to turn into practical jokes."  
Bobby pouted. "You guys mock my faith all the time!"  
"For the last time, Bobby," Kitty sighed. "Agent Gibbs is not a Prophet, and neither is anyone from NCIS. It's just a TV show."  
"Stop defying the Word of Gibbs," Bobby ordered her. "Besides, Professor, Jubilee helped me."  
"Leave me out of this," Jubilee growled.  
"You were happy to be in on it before!"  
"It was funnier then, and you weren't in trouble. And all I did was spellcheck it."  
"Quiet the both of you," the Professor cut them off. "You're being deliberately offensive to Kurt's beliefs, and not even considering the ramifications of your actions. Have you considered that perhaps having Church Officials come and interview Kurt may not be the best thing for mutantkind, or the residents of this Institute, let alone Kurt himself? You're being highly inconsiderate on several levels and I'm disappointed in you."  
"Oh, they know he's a mutant," Bobby said. "I put that in the letter."  
"What?"  
"Yeah, that's probably part of what made 'em consider it. Besides, it's funny! You know it's funny!"  
"That is not the issue here," the Professor informed him.  
"You think this is funny, Professor?" Kurt wanted to know.  
"I said that was not the issue!"  
"Dude," said Bobby. "Even you know this is funny. I got the Catholic Church to consider you for Sainthood, for cryin' out loud! This may be my greatest achievement to date!"  
"There was the uber-waffle you created Tuesday night," Rogue reminded him.  
"Alright, second-greatest."  
"Is nobody taking this seriously?" Kurt asked. "I don't think you're taking this seriously."  
"I am," said Scott, "but that doesn't mean I don't think it's funny."

"Children!" the Professor said testily. The rest of the conversation died down, and he frowned thunderously at Bobby and Jubilee. "I'll thank everyone to be more considerate of Kurt's feelings. Especially you two."  
Jubes hung her head. "Sorry, Professor," she mumbled. Bobby sighed.  
"Alright, alright. Kurt, I'm sorry. Better?"  
"Not a lot," Kurt said. "They're still sending people here to interview me."  
"Oh yeah."  
"Well, then," the Professor said. "If that's the issue, and if it's of Bobby's making, then he can resolve it. Bobby, you are to be there with Kurt when these interviewers arrive – when does the letter say, Kurt?"  
Kurt examined the letter. "The day after tomorrow, at two o' clock."  
"Very well, then. Bobby, you can be there, and you'll explain what you did – it should do you some good to explain to the representatives exactly how and why you wasted so much of their time and effort, not to mention committing a felony in the process."  
"I don't get punished?" Jubes wanted to know.  
"Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me, Jubilee, you can be there too."  
Kitty looked at Jubilee. "Why did you say that?"  
Jubilee blinked. "I… don't know. I even knew as I was saying it that it was a bad idea. Oh God, what's wrong with me?"  
"I could get the list," Bobby offered.  
"Would you?"  
"Hmm. No, actually," he corrected himself. "I'm much too lazy for that."  
"Ah, of course."  
Kurt shook his head at them. "You are both insane."  
"And we've never claimed otherwise," Jubilee agreed.  
"Has somebody been spreading those damn Bobby-is-sane rumours again?" Bobby wanted to know. "Those rumours are malicious."  
Kurt looked at the Professor; the Professor shrugged. "Kurt, I'm sorry. I can punish them, but I can't make them feel sorry for what they did."  
"Yes you can."  
"Alright, true, but I won't do that." He sipped his coffee. "Unlike these two, I appreciate that just because I can do something does not imply that I should."  
"I could do lots of stuff that I don't do," Bobby objected. "Note the fact that I'm not naked."  
"And that," the Professor noted, "is the sound of both of you getting cleaning duty of the Danger Room this evening."  
"What?" Jubilee demanded. "I didn't say anything!"  
"You pictured Bobby naked, and projected the image into my head. That's worthy of a far worse punishment than I gave you."  
"Was I hot?" Bobby wanted to know.  
"Don't flatter yourself," Jubilee told him. "It was involuntary. Like when someone says not to think of purple walruses."  
"I'm not flattering myself," Bobby said. "I know better than to do that around here. I only asked if I was hot."  
"Not really."  
Kurt snatched up the letter and shook his head. "You're both in for a lot worse than that," he informed them. "This is blasphemy. No good comes of blasphemy."  
And he stalked out of the dining room.  
"I didn't know Catholics were big on Karma," Scott commented.  
"This isn't Karma," Jean said. "This is Divine Punishment."  
"What's the difference?"  
"Bad Karma will kill you," Kitty explained. "Bad Divine Punishment happens when you're already dead and it involves going to Hell."  
"Oh." Scott looked at Bobby. "Sucks to be you, then."  
"Maybe," said Bobby, "but only when I die, and until then I now officially have nothing to lose."  
"Point."

At the other end of the table, Ororo sighed.  
" Logan, have you ever thought that living here is a bad idea?"  
Logan mopped up the last of his fried egg with a piece of toast and popped it into his mouth. "You kiddin' me, Ro? They ain't invented a kind o' entertainment that matches mornings at this place."  
"Hmm, true."  
"Hey, Mr. Logan," Bobby called. "Can you pass the bacon?"


	2. St Kurt the Humiliated

**Chapter 2: St. Kurt the Humiliated**

"How long until they get here?"  
"The letter said they'd be here at Two. That's fifteen minutes away."  
"I don't wanna wait around for fifteen minutes."  
"Then you shouldn't have sent that letter."  
"It was your idea."  
"And you went along with it. Did you expect this to end well or something?"  
"That's not fair."  
"Life isn't fair. Get used to it."  
"Whatever."  
"Man, I hope they hurry up. And where the hell is Kurt, anyway?"

The two days had gone by rather quickly. Aside from a few jokes made at his expense, Kurt had regained a state of resigned humour about the whole matter, and was taking it in his stride. For their part, Bobby and Jubilee hadn't shown a great deal of remorse, and had accepted their punishment in good spirits. To all indications, they were actually anticipating the meeting with the Church representatives – something that had finally succeeded in making Kurt apprehensive once more, despite the Professor's explicit and stern warnings that if they took one step out of line, punishment detail would be the least of their worries.

As Bobby yawned and stretched his shoulders back, Kurt appeared at the head of the stairs, immaculately dressed in dark pants and a clean white shirt. He was already tapping at his holowatch when he came into view; by the time he was halfway down his usual disguise was in place. Jubilee looked up at him.  
"Not going _au naturale_ for this one, Fuzzy?" she asked. Kurt shot her a black look.  
"My looks and general Church ideals do not mix," he informed her. "You've made a bad enough mess of things as it is, and I do not want these people to think they need to start a Demon hunt on top of everything else."  
"What do you mean, I made a mess of things?"  
"Give credit where it's due," Bobby agreed. "She wouldn't have even managed to confuse the issue without me, let alone mess it up entirely."  
"Confuse what issue?" Jubes wanted to know.  
"It's a metaphor. Don't question my ways."  
Kurt glared at them both. "Even now, the two of you won't take this seriously?" he demanded. "Aren't you even a little bit bothered by all of this?"  
"I don't like to get bothered about things," Bobby demurred. "It gives you wrinkles, and I'm way too young to start worrying about wrinkles."  
"Ditto," Jubes agreed. "You want us to sacrifice our youthful beauty for the sake of a self-inflicted guilt trip? Be reasonable."  
Kurt's glare got even darker; Bobby rolled his eyes. "Look, Kurt. You're just as bad a practical joker as I am. Aren't you going to admit – even if only a little bit – that this is kind of funny?"  
"We're not actually hurting anyone," Jubilee agreed. "And come on, if you managed to do this to, say, Logan? You'd think this was just as hilarious as we do."  
"That's not the point," Kurt complained.  
"Actually, it is," said Bobby. "That's the whole point of a joke."  
"And if it goes beyond a joke?"  
"Fuzz," said Jubilee. "There's no such thing."  
Kurt rubbed at his forehead. "Look, will you just promise me that you'll start taking this seriously when the interviewers arrive? If you offend them they could excommunicate me on principle or something! Canonization is a very serious matter."  
Bobby raised his right hand. "Alright, fine. I give you my word that I'll give this matter sufficient respect, and that I'll do whatever I can not to offend the Church people when they get here. Okay?"  
"No. We both know you're a liar."  
"I'm a Joker, there's a difference. I fabricate for the purposes of amusement, but I stringently uphold vows."  
"So you did read that Thesaurus that Dr. McCoy gave you for your birthday," Jubilee noted.  
"Didn't want to hurt his feelings."  
"Ah."  
All of a sudden a set of chimes rang through the air, and the three teenagers looked at one another.  
"They're here," said Kurt.

Jubilee winced inwardly when she swung the door open; standing on the porch were two friendly-looking men, dressed in black and with white collars around their necks, who couldn't have been above forty. Between them stood an elderly woman dressed in a full Nun's Habit with a steely glint in her eye.  
_Oh, this is gonna be painful…_  
"Good afternoon," one of them greeted her. "I'm Father Luke Brereton of Saint Patrick's Cathedral in New York. These are my colleagues, Father John Andrews, also from St. Patrick's; and Mother Superior Anne Gabel, the Prioress of Saint Joseph's in Buffalo."  
"Nice to meet you," Jubilee said, managing a smile. "I'm Jubilation Lee."  
"We're here to see a Mr. Kurt Wagner?" Father Andrews asked. "Regarding a letter on his behalf from Father Drake here in Bayville."  
The inward wince became a gut-wrenching cringe. "Um. Sure. Come on in."  
Standing aside, the three Church officials came in; Kurt and Bobby gave weak smiles by way of greeting.  
"Hello Fathers," said Kurt. "Mother Superior."  
"Hi," Bobby said, giving a little wave. Kurt elbowed him, and Bobby's hand dropped back down.  
"And where is Mr. Wagner?" the Mother Superior asked Jubilee. "He is available, I hope."  
Kurt bowed slightly. "Er, that would be me, Mother Superior," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."  
She blinked at him. "You're Kurt Wagner?"  
"Yes."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes."  
"Oh." The Mother Superior blinked again. "Alright then. You're just… well, not how Father Drake described you in his letter."  
Kurt shot a black look at Bobby. "Is that right?"  
Father Brereton frowned. "Well, um, I'm not sure how to say it, but… you were described as being somewhat… er, unique."  
"Is Father Drake here?" the Mother Superior asked. "We sent him a letter requesting that he be present for this, but he never responded."  
Kurt and Jubilee looked at Bobby.  
"Huh," said Bobby. "Awkward."  
"Why is this awkward?" Father Andrews asked pleasantly.  
"Cause I'm Father Drake."  
"Ah." The Priest paused. "I'm sorry, what?"  
Bobby shrugged helplessly. "Yeah, um, I wrote that letter. Nominating Kurt for Canonization. And stuff."  
The Mother Superior ran an eye over Bobby. "Young man, I have my doubts that you are a Priest."  
"Uh, yeah. I sorta thought that if I signed the letter as myself, you wouldn't pay any attention to it, so… yeah."  
"And why would you want us to 'pay attention' to a forgery?"  
"Because," Kurt informed her, "Bobby here thought it would be funny if he could fool the Church into nominating me for Sainthood."  
There was a longer pause.  
"Wow," said Bobby. "This is really awkward."

Father Brereton's pleasant face was taking a severe turn for the displeased. "Mr. Wagner, are you saying that the Archdiocese sent us out here to interview you for the purposes of a practical joke?"  
"_Ja_, pretty much. We're very sorry to have bothered you."  
Father Andrews closed his eyes for a moment. "And did this turn out to be as amusing as you thought?" he asked.  
Kurt looked startled. "_Nein_, you don't understand. The joke was on me. I knew nothing about this until I received your letter!"  
Everyone looked at Bobby.  
"Yeah, pretty much," he agreed. "You should've seen the look on his face."  
"Do you see the look on my face right now?" the Mother Superior asked him.  
"Um, yes."  
"And do you think it's as amusing as the rest of your practical joke?"  
"…I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to answer that question."  
"Then that," she said dryly, "is the most intelligent thing you've apparently done for quite some time. Wasting our time on a wild-goose chase today was not-"  
"Hey," Bobby protested. "Who said I was wasting your time?"  
"What would you call this, then?"  
"Exactly what you came here for! You wanted to interview Kurt and find out if he's worthy of Canonization, right? Well, here he is."  
Kurt whirled around, grabbed Bobby by the shoulder, and pushed him against the wall. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Just shut up!"  
Bobby pushed him away. "Dude, please. I'm doing exactly what you made me promise to do – take the matter seriously and treat these people with respect, which in my book involves not wasting their time."  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jubilee demanded. "Bobby, will you stop digging this hole of yours even deeper?"  
Ignoring her, Bobby stepped up and locked eyes with the Mother Superior. "Look, Mother or Sister or whatever. I'm not a Priest, okay, and yeah, I don't know much of anything about the Catholic Church. I get that. But that doesn't mean this guy isn't just as good as I said he was! What, because I put the word 'father' in front of my name it suddenly has some bearing on Kurt's character?"  
Kurt attempted to pull Bobby away again. Bobby pushed him off.  
"He's the same guy he was when I wrote that letter, and whoever I signed it as makes absolutely no difference. If you thought he was good enough to interview, that hasn't changed. So just for the record? I didn't waste your time at all. I just used the only method I could to get your attention."  
Kurt yanked Bobby backwards and pinned him against the wall with his feet dangling two inches off the floor. "If you don't stop talking, I promise you that I will devote my entire life to making you regret it."  
Father Brereton rubbed a weary hand across his forehead. "Mr. Wagner, put him down. I'm not sure why he thinks he's still being clever, but since we're going to leave now it doesn't make any difference."  
The Mother Superior cleared her throat. "You, young master Drake, should be ashamed of yourself. Lies are the words of the wicked, and you spout them for amusement. I pity you."  
"Hey, come on now!" Bobby wriggled against Kurt's hand. "I might've lied about the Priest thing, but the rest of it was true! You're just going to discount it?"  
Father Andrews snorted. "Aside from your lies about being a Priest, Mr. Drake, there are a few other claims that we're having some trouble believing. Or is Mr. Wagner here simply hiding his impossible physiology? And the fact that he's saved millions of lives by fighting – oh, what was it now – terrorists, aliens, and the living incarnation of the Apocalypse himself? He's apparently hiding his lights under a pretty large bushel."  
Jubilee blinked. "You… you came here because Bobby mentioned all that?"  
"Miss Lee," the Mother Superior said tiredly. "Although the wider world may not be aware of the general existence of mutants, let alone the actions of those who use their capabilities for the greater good in the fashion which Mr. Drake described to us. The Archdiocese felt that such a positive example would help the Catholic Church to embrace this new level of humanity, which is the only reason we saw worthy to come here today. However, since he's been fabricating lies for his own amusement, there is little purpose to our remaining here. Unless you've some other startling revelation for us?"  
The three teenagers looked at one another slowly. Kurt lowered Bobby to the floor.  
"Seriously, you guys," said Bobby. "Awkward."  
Kurt turned back to the officials and rubbed the back of his neck. "That's… why you came here?"  
"Right," Father Andrews agreed. "Only to find that we've been played for fools."  
Kurt opened and clothed his mouth a few times. Then he looked at Bobby and Jubilee. Then he looked back at the Church officials.  
Then he shrugged, sighed, and turned off his holowatch.  
There was a long pause.  
And then Father Brereton fainted.

Father Andrews and the Mother Superior didn't appear to notice; they still stared wide-eyed at Kurt. Kurt sighed and bent to raise Father Brereton into a sitting position as the Mother Superior pulled out a rosary and began muttering under her breath. Father Andrews made the sign of the cross and backed against the wall.  
And Bobby sidled up next to Jubilee to whisper in her ear.  
"I think they bought it. Man, can you believe I talked my way out of that one?"  
"Dude," Jubilee hissed back. "They are going to have to make an entirely new Hell just for you, do you know that?"


	3. St Kurt the Frustrated

**Chapter 3: St. Kurt the Frustrated**

"I just can't apologise enough for my behaviour," Father Brereton was saying. "So inappropriate of me, after what we'd been told to expect… it was terrible of me."  
"These things happen," Kurt informed him. "Seriously. A lot."  
"I just – well, fainting like that, it was so…"  
"You're worried about fainting?" Jubilee asked. "I thought that everything else was bad enough."  
"I was actually kind of impressed," Bobby informed the Mother Superior. "Shouting the rosary loud enough to wake him up again was pretty cool. That took a lot of lung power."  
The Mother Superior raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought we had established, Mr. Drake, that it was a bad idea for you to talk to me very much?"  
"Well yeah, but still."  
"Thank you, I suppose."  
Father Andrews gave a little wave from over against the kitchen wall. "Uh, while we're at it? Sorry about the Holy Water. I don't usually carry vials around with me, it was just… well, you know, instinct to throw it, and…"  
"I told you not to worry about it," Kurt said. "My shirt's almost dry."  
"At least you didn't grab an axe from the coat of arms and try to attack Kurt with it," Jubilee pointed out.  
Father Brereton blushed, and Kurt looked across the kitchen at Logan. "Did you really have to knock him out?"  
Logan shook his head. "Nope."  
There was a silence.  
"Alright then," said Kurt.  
Bobby waved a finger at Logan. "We'll let you off the hook this time, but from now on, remember that it's not polite to eavesdrop around the corner."  
"Or hit Priests," Jubilee chimed in.  
"Even if they are swinging axes around," Bobby agreed.

Following the chaos in the foyer and Logan's timely intervention, they'd shifted camp to the kitchen in order to get Father Brereton an ice pack. The Church officials had, to say the least, been somewhat embarrassed of their own behaviour, and had spent the last few minutes telling Kurt how sorry they were, only to be surprised and somewhat horrified by the calm resignation with which he accepted them.  
"So… people have reacted to your, um, appearance like that your whole life?" Father Andrews asked.  
Kurt nodded. "Pretty much, _ja_. I've always looked like this, and, well, people have always disliked that fact. I could fill a swimming pool with the Holy Water people have poured on me, to say nothing of what I could do with the other things they've thrown at me."  
"So are we acknowledging that I didn't lie?" Bobby asked.  
"Except for the Priest part," Jubilee added.  
"Yeah, sure."  
Father Brereton removed the ice pack from a large welt on his forehead. "Well, that we don't know yet. I mean, the other claims were still somewhat extravagant. If we didn't have at least some knowledge of what Mutant groups have actually done for the world we'd have discounted them straight away. As it was, you've still made him out to be a fairly impressive hero."  
"Which I'm not," Kurt agreed. "Whatever Bobby may tell you, I am not personally responsible for saving the world."  
"Except for that time you shut down Magneto's machine and stopped him becoming invincible," Kitty said from over by the fridge.  
"Alright, there was that one time-"  
"And you have been pretty influential most of the time when we've been trying to stop everyone from, you know, dying," Jubilee added. "Even if you do get your ass kicked a lot."  
Logan snorted. "Hell, that's his own damn fault. If the Elf wasn't always tryin' to watch everyone else's back he wouldn't get his ass in the line of fire as much."  
"Plus since Jean and Scott were already here when the Professor opened the school, that pretty much makes you the first recruit," Bobby pointed out. "So there's the whole mentor thing as well."  
"Oh, sure," Kitty agreed. "And we never would have helped Dr. McCoy without Kurt, or maybe even stopped Juggernaut. And that time he even teamed up with, like, his arch-enemy to save Wanda?"  
"Not to mention that he did sort of lead the charge against Apocalypse," Scott observed from over by the door. "He was the first one to actually try to face him down, anyway."  
"Yeah, but that was stupid," Logan argued. "Got his ass handed to him, didn't he?"  
"Maybe, but it was still brave."  
"Guys?" Kurt interrupted. "Please stop helping me."

The Church officials watched this little exchange with interest.  
"So he did do those things?" the Mother Superior asked after a moment.  
"Told you," said Bobby.  
"They're exaggerating," Kurt informed her. "We do these things as a team."  
"Yeah, but those were all specific examples," Kitty pointed out. "We do all kinds of stuff as a team, but that's stuff you've done as a team member."  
"We've all done things like that!"  
"I haven't."  
"Neither have I," Jubilee chimed in.  
"I sure as hell haven't," Bobby agreed.  
"I've done a couple of things like that, but you've got at least as many points as I have there," Scott said. "Plus I'm not Catholic."  
"The Professor," Kurt said desperately. "He was the one who got us all together! He's personally saved the entire world, even this universe a dozen times! I don't hold a candle to him."  
"Now that is an exaggeration," the Professor noted, wheeling into the room behind Kurt. "Besides which, I am not a practicing Catholic, which means that I'm just as ineligible as Scott."  
"Did I not ask you people to stop helping me?"  
"Dude," said Bobby. "What is the matter with you? You're actually denying that you're a hero?"  
Kurt flushed. "No, but…"  
"Oh, so you're just lying to these people."  
"I'm not lying!"  
"Then what is it? Don't you want to become a Saint?"  
"Of course I – well, no, but – argh!" Kurt closed his eyes and made strangling gestures with both hands. "You don't get it! Canonization isn't something you do on a whim, it's something huge and important. And it's also an honour that is way above me, don't you see that?"  
"Of course you think that," the Mother Superior agreed. "If you actually wanted to become a Saint, you wouldn't be eligible. Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, after all."  
Kurt buried his head in his hands for a moment and issued a muttered groan. "This isn't fair. You're telling me that because I don't actually deserve this is just another excuse to do it to me?"  
"That's a pretty harsh way of putting it," Father Andrews noted. "But it's not entirely inaccurate."

"Kurt," the Professor said. "While I do appreciate your concern, you must realise what an honour this is?"  
"I do!"  
"Then what's the matter?"  
Kurt sighed. "Professor, Sainthood is only given to those most deserving of the honour. Those who have spent their entire lives making the world a better place, performing miracles, working toward a goal recognized by God. That doesn't describe me!"  
"Why not?" Kitty wanted to know.  
"Because I'm only seventeen years old! You're trying to reward the quality of my life before I've lived it!"  
"Mr. Wagner, the things you've done in your life – did you do them because somebody told you to, or because they seemed right?" Father Andrews asked.  
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Because they seemed right, of course."  
"Then I see no reason to believe you'd change those ideals any time soon," the priest argued. "Surely you must agree with that."  
"Kurt," the Professor said soothingly. "The reason for this – and I hope that our Church representatives will correct me if I'm mistaken – is that the Catholic Church wishes to acknowledge and embrace mutantkind. The example you set for others could end a great deal of hatred and prejudice. It could save thousands of lives."  
Kurt crossed his arms and glared at the Professor. "You should be Catholic," he complained. "It's not fair to use guilt as a weapon."  
"If you're worried about how eligible you are, you needn't worry," the Mother Superior commented. "This is just the first step where we'd consider the nature of your character. Then we'd investigate more. Mr. Wagner, if you're truly not worthy of the honour, I can promise you that you'll get your wish and remain safely anonymous. As it is, we're just taking the first step."  
"But I haven't even performed any miracles!" Kurt insisted. "Don't I need to perform a miracle to become a Saint?"  
"I don't think that's an official requirement," Father Brereton observed. "But anyway, Mr. Drake's letter led us to believe that you…"  
Kurt snorted. "If you're going to say 'teleportation' you can forget it."  
The priest blinked. "Why is that?"  
"Because if my ability counts as a miracle then every mutant in the world is eligible for Canonization. Everyone in this _verdammt_ building can perform miracles."  
"That's actually true," Kitty agreed. "There are people in Bayville who can perform pretty much any miracle you can think of, short of coming back from the dead. And let's face it, probably it's only a matter of time."  
"Sure," Scott snorted. "Like that is ever gonna happen."  
The Professor frowned. "Now, Kurt, I'll concede that you can't turn water into wine, but as I understand it not all miracles consist of parlour tricks. You've used what talents you have to save a great many lives, surely that counts for something?"  
"Why are you helping them?" Kurt wanted to know.  
"I'm just trying to support you."  
"Then haven't you noticed that I'm arguing against the whole thing? I've been saying from the start that this is a bad idea."  
"Why are you so convinced it's a bad idea?" Father Andrews asked.  
Kurt pointed at Bobby. "Because he thought of it."  
There was a brief silence.  
"Now that is a good point," Scott observed.  
"Surely he's not that bad?" Father Andrews persisted.  
"His shirt is on backwards. And inside out!"  
Bobby looked down at himself. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Mr. Wagner, be that as it may, he may have stumbled upon something important," the Mother Superior said soothingly. "The eyes of a fool can see what's hidden from the rest of us, after all."  
"Did she just call me a fool?" Bobby wanted to know. "Did I just get burned by a nun?"  
"Shut up and fix your shirt," Jubilee advised.  
Father Brereton was nodding. "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings…"  
"…hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger," Kurt finished. "Psalms chapter eight, verse two. I'm aware of the scriptures, Father, but believe me – the Book was not referring to Bobby as either a babe or a suckling in this case."  
Bobby opened his mouth.  
"Say it and I'll staple your mouth shut," Kurt said without looking around at him.  
Bobby closed his mouth.  
The Mother Superior looked on with amusement, then rose. "Mr. Wagner, I'll be as forthcoming as I can about this. We came here – under whatever reasons, be they good or bad – to determine if there is any reason to investigate you further, with regards to your potential for Canonization."  
Kurt tensed. "…and?"  
"And so far I've seen only things that make me want to investigate further. Like it or not, Mr. Wagner, you've set an example that others should follow. We don't want to put you on a pedestal, but you're certainly the kind of person that deserves the respect of the Church."  
The Elf deflated, his head collapsing onto the table with an audible _thump_. "I give up. I just give up. The entire world has gone mad."  
"Speaking of the entire world," Father Andrews said, "could we possibly get some contact details for Mr. Wagner's family? We'd like to discuss the matter with them."  
"Hey," said Bobby. "If you guys like Kurt so much, I've got a whole bunch of people I could nominate for this gig."  
"Bobby," the Professor told him. "You made a mockery of Kurt's faith, and turned an apology to these people into an utter shambles. The only thing that has saved you is, ironically enough, the quality of Kurt's character."  
"It's a miracle," Bobby agreed happily.  
"Worst miracle ever," Kurt mumbled. "What's your point, Professor?"  
"That Bobby has been saved from total disaster by a very, very small fluke, and that if he knows what's good for him, he'd best stop talking quite soon."  
"Hell," said Logan. "An' I was only a couple sentences away from stickin' him on Laundry detail fer a week. Shoulda spoke up sooner."


	4. St Kurt the Celebrated

**Chapter 4: St. Kurt the Celebrated**

Amanda was inside the door before Sam had even finished opening it.  
"Is he okay?"  
Sighing, Sam shut the door. "Well, he's not hurt. Outside of that I don't really know what I can tell you. He's definitely not happy."  
"Where is he?"  
"In his room – wait a minute, how did you know what was going on?"  
Amanda blinked. "I called him earlier and he told me. Why?"  
Sam let out a relieved breath. "Oh, nothing. Was just worried that the story was gunna get out or something."  
"Oh, God, don't even suggest it…"  
"Alright. Anyway, yeah, he's in his room."  
"Thanks, Sam."

Kurt's answer to Amanda's knock wasn't encouraging: "_Hor auf_. I'm not in the mood."  
Amanda harrumphed and put her hands on her hips. "Well, I was coming to see how you were, but if you're in that bad a mood…"  
Her lips twitched into an involuntary grin as there came an audible _thump_ from within the room, followed by a scrabbling noise. Seconds later the door opened, a pair of blue hands shot out like some bizarre jack-in-the-box, grabbed her shoulders, jerked her into the room, and the door shut again. The next thing she knew, she was being crushed in a hug.  
"Sorry," Kurt said against her neck. "Thought you were Bobby." Then he went still and held her at arm's length. "Wait, he didn't see you coming up here, did he?"  
Amanda blinked. "No…"  
"Thank God. He'd probably have cited you for Presidency or something."  
Kurt's left eye was twitching slightly, and his tail was more active than ever, twisting erratically in the air behind him.  
"Are you alright, sweetie?"  
"Fine. Fine! Why wouldn't I be fine?" Kurt laughed. "Everything is. Just. Peachy."  
"How long have you been in here?"  
"Since breakfast," came Scott's voice from over on the balcony. Amanda turned to see a trio of figures – Scott, Jean and Kitty – standing there and watching the reunion with some amusement.  
"He ate breakfast, called you, and locked himself in here. We had to get Kitty to let us in, and we've been trying to calm him down," Jean explained. "As far as I'm concerned you didn't get here a moment too soon."  
"Exactly what is going on?" Amanda asked. "I'm not clear on the details. All I got on the phone was that Bobby was trying to destroy the church somehow, and that Kurt was going to become a Saint. Which I'm pretty sure I heard wrong."  
"Nope," said Kitty.  
"…what?"  
"Bobby and Jubilee wrote a letter to the Archdiocese in New York as a prank," Scott informed her. "Bobby claimed he was a Priest and nominated Kurt for Canonization. The Archdiocese sent some people yesterday to check on Kurt's eligibility, and apparently he impressed them so much that they were going to second the nomination even though Bobby isn't a Priest."  
"Bobby and Jubes think it's hilarious," Jean supplied helpfully.  
"Anyway," Kitty went on. "After they left Kurt went all emo on us for a while, then went through some sims in the Danger Room – always a bad sign – before bed. And all this morning he's been sitting up here muttering to himself and twitching."  
"I have not been muttering!"  
"Have too."  
"What do you people put in the water here?" Amanda wanted to know. "I mean, do you make an active effort to make life as surreal as possible?"  
"No, that's just Bobby," Scott said. "We think maybe it's a secondary power we didn't know about."  
"Isn't the Professor doing anything about this?"  
"Not… really," Jean said. "I mean, we can all see that Kurt's pretty upset, but we're not exactly sure why. Even the Professor can't see a real downside to this, but Elf boy here has been stressing his fur out. Literally."  
"Yeah," Kitty agreed. "All we get when we ask him is-"  
"I don't deserve this!" Kurt insisted.  
"…that," she finished. Kurt shot her a glare, which she shrugged off.  
"Well, this isn't healthy," Amanda announced. "Sweetie, if you're that upset, sitting up here won't do anything."  
"Oh, I don't think it'll do anything," Kurt informed her. "I just want to avoid running into Bobby."  
"What more can he do?"  
"Nothing." Kurt's eyes narrowed slightly. "But it's not what Bobby is going to do to me that will be unpleasant. It's the other way around."  
Everyone was quiet for a moment.  
"Now I'm convinced that sitting up here is really unhealthy," Amanda said.  
"I'm starting to agree," Kitty opined. "What time is it?"  
Scott looked at his watch. "Quarter to twelve."  
"Prefect," Amanda said. "C'mon, sweetie, we're taking you out for lunch."  
Kurt blinked. "But… I'm not sure if…"  
"Bobby won't be there. Now come on, what's the worst that could happen?"

----

_Twelve hours ago_

Snow on the rocks. Cold wind blowing through the trees. Carts pulled down cobblestone streets. A babble of languages faintly heard from every stone-and-wood cottage. And not a McDonald's or a Gut Bomb in sight.  
Welcome to Heirelgart. (1)  
Currently, however, the babble of voices in question were mostly centred around a magnificent stone cathedral which dwarfed the other buildings, a short distance out of the town itself.

"One at a time, please!"  
The denizens of Heirelgart slowly dimmed the noise down to a dull roar as the visiting Bishop waved his hands frantically from the pulpit. Eventually, his voice was able to be heard without shouting, and he shook his head slowly as his cheeks went down from an alarming red colour.  
"My friends, please. I appreciate your enthusiasm in this matter, but when I asked if anyone had something to say I did not wish to hear all of those things at once."  
A titter of laughter ran through the packed church and the Bishop grinned down at them.  
"Now then. For those of you who are not fully aware of what has gone on here, allow me to explain. Your friend and neighbour, one Mr. Kurt Wagner, has been nominated for canonization by his own friend across the sea, Mr. Robert Drake."  
"Kurt lives with a priest?" an old woman hissed to her neighbour.  
"No, no, I don't think Drake is a priest," the other responded. "Though he gave the nomination none the less."  
"A local preacher, then?"  
"Something like that, yes…"  
Above them, the Bishop went on. "After a meeting with the Archdiocese of New York, and discussions with those people whom Mr. Wagner lives with, the Church has seen fit to further investigate Mr. Wagner's potential for canonization. Today, myself and my colleagues are here to speak with Mr. Wagner's immediate family and closest friends."  
"That," Father Heigl murmured off to one side, "will take him all week. There are more stories to be told about that lad than anyone else in this town, and everyone in town has a different one to tell."  
Father Gottfried, standing next to him, chuckled. "And I don't envy those that must do the interviewing, either. Nobody in Heirelgart will have something bad to say about him, but they'll be forced to listen to everyone repeat it until the day is done."  
"Now," the Bishop went on. "Since I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible on this matter, I'll ask the simple questions first. Does anyone here have something bad to say about Mr. Wagner?"  
Dead silence reigned throughout the cathedral.  
"Very good. Now, those who have something good to say?"  
And a roar of cheering voices drowned out any chance the Bishop had of being heard.

A while later, the majority of people made their way out of the cathedral, still talking animatedly. Only a few remained – Kurt's immediate family and a few of his closest friends, chosen by Fathers Heigl and Gottfried – to involve themselves in the deeper discussion.  
Something the Bishop and his colleagues would undoubtedly have been happier with had all of these friends been human.  
"So," Andrei said heartily, tail twitching. "Where shall we start?"  
"Um," said the Bishop, blinking.  
Katja and Anja rolled their eyes. "It's rude to stare," Erika said.  
Astrid twitched a finger at them. "Girls! Show respect to your betters and elders."  
"Sorry, Mama," they chorused.  
Andrei, meanwhile, just crossed his arms. "So. Never seen a four-legger before, Father? Nee, don't worry, we're harmless. Kurti and I go all the way back to the crèche."  
Katja prodded the centaur in the side. "You'd think _Fassfuss_ here was Kurt's brother instead of us. They were always fooling around together."  
"If you know anything about ol' _Kasegewicht_ then you'd know that he's the last person in the world to be stopped by unusual looks," Andrei pointed out. "Me and him, we've been best friends for years, centaur or no."  
"We did warn you to keep an open mind," Heigl said from behind the Bishop. "Heirelgart is not for the faint-of-heart, after all."  
"So I see," the Bishop agreed. Then he shook his head and stepped back. "Very well, then. Father Heigl, Father Gottfried, is there somewhere private we can all sit down and chat?"  
Gottfried smiled. "This way, Your Grace. We can talk in the back."

----

_Present time_

"Now then," Amanda said soothingly. "Isn't it better here than sitting up in your room?"  
"Alright, maybe," Kurt admitted.  
She stole one of his fries. "Good."  
Scott grinned and took a drink of his thickshake. "See, Kurt? The world hasn't come to an end. Nothing's as bad as it looks. It's all going to be fine."  
"Never say that out loud again," Kurt said. "It tempts fate."  
"The holy son Kurt Wagner is bowing to superstition?" Kitty asked. "My, what is the world coming to?"  
"Guys," said Jean.  
"It's not superstition, it's Hollywood."  
"Ah."  
"You all worry too much," Amanda observed. "Hollywood superstition or not."  
"Guys?" Jean repeated.  
"I worry as much as I need," Kurt argued. "We've sort of seen proof by now that when I worry it tends to be justified."  
"Guys!"  
Finally Scott looked at her. "What is it?"  
Jean pointed at the television above their heads.

"…_breaking news from Bavaria, Germany, as a nomination for canonization from Bayville preacher Robert Drake is upheld. Seventeen-year-old student of Bayville High, Kurt Wagner has been put up for the honour of becoming the only living Saint in the world today. Sources from the New York Archdiocese reveal that Robert Drake's nomination was first upheld by a deposition that paid a visit to Kurt, before further investigations in Bavaria with the Wagner family have made the nomination a hotter success than before. Meanwhile, in New York State, the prospect of a living saint in our own backyard is causing widespread excitement in the Catholic community…_"

As the newsreader droned on, Kitty frowned. "They called Bobby a preacher. Bobby is not a preacher. Why did they call him one?"  
"Priorities, Kitty," Jean said. "More important than people thinking Bobby is a preacher is what's going to happen when he finds out that they think that. It could be disastrous."  
"It sort of already is," Scott pointed out. "The guy has nominated Kurt for sainthood on a whim. How much more damage could he possibly do?"  
"This is Bobby we're talking about."  
"Point."  
"Guys?" Amanda said. "Kurt hasn't blinked yet. I'm kind of worried."  
"Elf," Kitty said, prodding him in the side. "You with us?"  
"Oh, _ja_," Kurt said faintly. "I think."  
"You sure?"  
"Of course." Kurt rose. "Excuse me."  
Amanda grabbed his hand. "Where are you going?"  
"Oh, I just have to go and murder Bobby a few times." He pulled his hand free. "Bye."  
Turning, he walked over to the men's room and entered. Before anyone could move, the door swung shut; and then a wisp of smoke trailed out from under the door.  
"Oh, hell," Scott said. "I just know the Professor is gonna blame us for this."  
"Finish your meals quickly," Jean said. "We'd better get home before Bobby really does manage to piss Kurt off enough to get homicidal."

----------  
(1) The town of Heirelgart and everyone in it are the sole intellectual property of the InterNutter. It's her personal version of Kurt's home, which I'm borrowing for this story. Anything you don't quite understand – read her stories and you'll catch on.


	5. St Kurt the Infuriated

**Chapter 5: St. Kurt the Infuriated**

Kurt leaped high into the air, one foot lashing out to connect soundly with Iceman's jaw. Even as the younger mutant was stumbling back, Kurt twisted in the air, landed like a cat, and hurled himself forward. He struck Iceman in the chest, the momentum sending them both rolling across the floor, before Kurt hurled his opponent away and into the wall. Climbing back to his feet, Iceman fired a blast of freezing energy at him, which Kurt dodged with contemptuous ease as he dove to the side. Abruptly he vanished in an explosion of smoke; reappearing to one side of Iceman, his momentum sending him barrelling into Iceman at high speed. Once more Kurt pushed Iceman away, his tail snagging up the fencing sword he'd dropped earlier. Rising, he tossed it to one hand before hurling it directly at the younger mutant; Iceman ducked, the blade embedding itself in the wall an inch from his head as Kurt lunged forward once again and knocked Iceman flat onto his back with a vicious uppercut.

"Man," said Bobby from his vantage point in the control booth. "Am I ever glad that's not me down there."  
"Actually, it sorta is," Scott pointed out. "Kurt programmed the Danger Room to set you as his opponent just so he could kick the crap out of you."  
"You don't know that!"  
"Yeah, I do. He told me."  
"Oh."  
Rogue whistled under her breath. "Popsicle, he's goin' to town on your ass. If this thing's accurate, you gotta learn to fight better."  
Bobby sniffed. "Oh, please. Everyone knows the Danger Room sims aren't as good as the real thing."  
"So you're sayin' you could beat Kurt's sim, then?"  
"Don't put words in my mouth."  
"He looks tired," Kitty observed, watching Kurt. "Shouldn't Mr. Logan be in there making sure Kurt paces himself?"  
"He was," Scott said. "He's stepped out for the moment."  
"What?"  
"Elf Boy wore out Logan?" Rogue wanted to know.  
"Not exactly," Scott explained. "Logan's gone under the pretence that he's having a breather. He's actually gone to get the Professor."  
"Why did you want us to see this?" Jubilee asked Jean. "This is depressing and more than a little scary."  
"That's the point," Jean informed her. "Here – it gets even better with the sound on. Scott, could you?"  
Scott obliged, and for a few seconds Kurt's snarling voice came through the Danger Room speakers as he beat the stuffing out of the virtual Bobby: "In the name of the Father…" – a savage kick to the midriff – "…and the Son…" – one blue hand gripped Iceman's throat and lifted him off the ground – "…and the Holy Ghost!" – a spectacular uppercut that sent Iceman's body flying backwards almost six feet, bouncing limply on the floor a couple of times before vanishing.  
Scott turned the sound off.  
"He's beating me up and keeping the rhythm with Bible quotes?" Bobby asked incredulously. "That's just creepy."  
"Exactly," Jean agreed. "And, just maybe, you can see something a little symbolic in this? Kurt beating the hell out of you while reciting scripture?"  
"Symbolic of the fact that the guy has issues."  
"Issues with you," Scott pointed out. "I've never seen him this pissed off before."  
Bobby scoffed. "Oh, come on. Fuzzy and I are buddies, you know that. He knows it's a joke."  
"Oh," said Kitty. "So you think it'd be fine if you walked into the Danger Room and tried to, like, start a conversation with him right now?"  
In the Danger Room below, a new Iceman appeared. Kurt jumped on his head, brought him to the floor, and stomped on him a few times.  
"Maybe later," Bobby said. "He looks… um…"  
"Busy?" Rogue suggested.  
"Right, busy. Thank you."  
Jubilee fidgeted nervously. "Has he, uh, practiced on me much?"  
"A couple of times," Scott reported. "Mostly just when he had the two of you against him, though."  
"How did we do?" Bobby asked.  
"Not good."  
"I was down here a while ago," Kitty informed them. "At one point he disabled the Bobby-sim and used him as a club to beat the Jubilee-sim into submission."  
"It was pretty awesome," Scott agreed.  
"How long's the crazy bastard been down here, anyway?" Rogue wondered.  
Jean looked at the clock. "A little short of five hours now. Guy's got stamina, I'll give him that."

Behind them the door swung open, admitting Logan and the Professor into the already-crowded control booth.  
"He's still at it, I take it?" the Professor asked. Scott nodded.  
"Yup. He's been in there for a few hours now. Slowed down a bit, but he's got some fight left in him yet."  
"Heard he wore you out," Bobby said to Logan.  
"Do you actually try to say stupid things?" Jubilee wanted to know. "Or do they just sort fall out of your mouth regardless of what your brain might be telling you?"  
"Shut up."  
The Professor sighed. "Scott? I'd like a word with Kurt, if you could arrange that."  
"Will do."  
A few button-presses later, the Danger Room wound down. Kurt turned to look up at the control booth to see Scott through the window, making a come-hither beckoning gesture; with a sigh, the Elf vanished in an explosion of smoke and appeared in the control booth.  
Right next to Bobby.  
Kurt snarled – actually snarled – and Bobby shrieked and hid behind Logan. Jubilee emitted a small whimpering sound and stepped back out through the door.  
"I thought you said you could beat him, sugar?" Rogue observed. "Whatcha scared of?"  
"I never said that! Stop making it worse!"  
"Popsicle, if you don't quit hangin' off my shoulders I'm gonna lock you down there an' let the Elf do whatever the hell he wants."  
"How is that worse than what he's gonna do to me if I don't hide behind you?"  
"I'll help 'im."  
Bobby let go.  
"I'm not going to hurt you," Kurt said darkly. "If I wanted to hurt you I'd have gone after you instead of come down here. Alright?"  
Bobby looked uncertain. "Really?"  
"Really. Just don't tempt me. Because even if it's wrong I would still really, really like to hurt you. Understood?"  
Before Bobby could answer, Scott spoke up. "Dude, I know what you're thinking. But seriously. Making a joke about fighting temptation is about the worst thing you could say right now."  
Bobby considered. "Not the absolute worst."  
"Pretty high on the list, though."  
"I'll go with that."  
Kurt, meanwhile, had turned to the Professor. "I'm guessing you're the one who wanted me to come up here?"  
"Yes." The Professor nodded. "I wanted to talk to you about the… well, release of your story to the press. It looks like a source from inside the Archdiocese of New York let the story out after your family were able to uphold the nomination."  
"Someone just went and told the media?" Kurt asked incredulously.  
"It's not at all uncommon," the Professor said. "Even the police have problems with leaks. All it takes is someone as lowly as a janitor overhearing a few key details… there are people in the media who will pay very handsomely for stories like this, Kurt."  
"Oh good. The story of how my life went to hell in a handbasket is worth something to someone. I'm so happy."  
"Isn't this kind of the exact opposite of going to hell?" Kitty asked.  
"Nah," Rogue told her. "That's his afterlife that ain't goin' to hell. His life right now? It's at circle number four an' headin' deeper."  
"Bummer."  
"So what are we doing about it?" Jean asked. "With the name Kurt Wagner in the media it's only a matter of time before the press find out he's here. Pretty much the last thing we need is a few thousand reporters climbing the walls."  
"Not to mention that any cover we might have had left about the whole 'mutant sanctuary' thing is gone," Scott added.  
"I am aware," the Professor said. "Unfortunately there's not a lot we can do about it. The Institute is private property, of course, so we can prevent the hordes from coming and sitting on our doorstep. That doesn't mean they can't – or won't – camp outside the grounds for as long as the story lasts. We'd all better prepare ourselves for a good deal of harassment, I'm afraid."  
"But we don't have to!" Kurt demanded. "Why can't we just tell them the truth about what really happened? String their 'preacher' up from a lamp post in the main street while we're at it…"  
"Good Lord, no," the Professor said, looking alarmed. "The absolute last thing you should do is talk to the press about anything, Kurt. I cannot stress how dangerous it would be for you. Scott was right – anyone who was not aware of our mutant status soon will be. Add that to the controversy that follows religion in the media, and, well…"  
"Every mutant-hatin' bible-basher in America is gonna be gunnin' for yer hide," Logan summarized. The Professor winced.  
"Inelegantly but accurately put, Logan." He shook his head. "Kurt, you're about to become the most famous and controversial mutant in the world. All things considered, it's enough of a risk for people to know of your biology as it is. With all this… I simply can't let you take that big a risk."  
Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Am I supposed to be pleased about your protectiveness of me?"  
"Not really. If I were you I'd be anything but pleased. I just want you to understand the situation."  
Kurt sighed. "_Ja_, I understand the situation. That still doesn't explain why someone else can't do it…"  
"Because it wouldn't do anything. It would merely fuel the debate, possibly earning us a few enemies in the first place. Can you imagine the public reaction if they found out that all of this was started by a prank?"  
"Anyone in the Church who wasn't anti-mutant would be," Jean said softly.  
"Correct. Bobby has set in motion a chain of events that we're no longer able to stop. All we can hope to do now is survive the storm."

There was a long silence before Kurt growled softly under his breath.  
"Alright, I get it. I'm a marked man, I'm a celebrity of the most unwanted kind, and I can't talk to the media or else things will get worse. Understood."  
The Professor sighed. "For what it's worth, Kurt, I'm sorry. If I'd had any idea it would escalate to this level…"  
"It's not your fault, Professor."  
"No?"  
"It's Bobby's."  
"Ah."  
Bobby whimpered slightly as Kurt's baleful yellow eyes fixed on him for a moment. Then Kurt turned back to Scott.  
"I think I'd like some more time down there, Scott. If you don't mind?"  
Scott sighed. "Alright, alright. Off you go."  
As Kurt teleported away, Bobby looked around. "Is all this for real?"  
Kitty blinked at him. "Duh? Of course it is. What, you didn't think this would be a big deal? It's only the biggest religion in America getting involved in the whole mutant debate…"  
"But…" Bobby shook his head. "…the whole thing about people trying to kill Kurt…"  
"If he's seen to be making a mockery of the Church, there will be a lot of angry people coming after him," the Professor informed him. "Even if the truth about your prank never gets out, there will be more than a few anyway. People who hate mutants, who believe that God is on their side, and who will try to murder Kurt to prove that God is opposed to mutants."  
Bobby looked across at Jubilee; the two were silent for a long moment. Then Kitty snorted.  
"What is it, you two? Surprised to find out that pulling this prank actually has consequences?"  
"I ain't meanin' to be ironic here," Logan observed as he pulled out a cigar, "but if I were the two of you? I'd be prayin' for a way outta this."  
Bobby turned slowly to look out the window, just in time to see Kurt impale an Iceman-doppelganger with his sword.

"Y'know what?" he said. "I'm starting to think that might be a good idea."


	6. St Kurt the Incorporated

**Chapter 6: St. Kurt the Incorporated**

"No, I'm sorry, he's not available for interviews. Kurt has to continue his studies. Now if you could hold for a moment?"  
"I appreciate how much you're willing to pay, but I'm afraid Kurt simply doesn't have the time to make such a public appearance. Yes, that's right… excuse me, would you mind holding for just a second?"  
"No, Kurt will not be willing to sponsor a line of footwear. He doesn't actually wear shoes. I know that most people do, but that's not the issue. No, I don't care about a sponsorship deal. Goodbye."  
"Hello? Yes, look. I'm very sorry, but it simply won't work out. Well, I appreciate it. Goodbye."  
"Ms. Winfrey, will you please stop calling? Goodbye."  
"Hello, yes. It's not a matter of timing, it's a matter of Kurt simply not being able to appear at this rally. Teen pregnancy is really not an issue he's going to discuss right now. Yes, I understand, thank you. Goodbye."

Sighing, Ororo replaced the phone in its cradle and looked around the den.  
"This is getting out of hand," she informed Logan. "They haven't stopped calling all day."  
"I still say you shoulda agreed to the deal from Jack Daniels," Logan said. "Hell, I'd pay my respects to the Elf for that."  
"I somehow doubt that a seventeen-year-old boy would make a good spokesperson for a Bourbon manufacturer."  
"Clearly you ain't been to a high-school party for a while."  
"I'm sorry, was that a dig at my age? From you, of all people?"  
"Touche, darlin'."  
Kitty and Rogue wandered in from the hall, looking bored. "Who was that on the phone?" Kitty asked.  
"Another half-dozen offers for sponsorship," Ororo said. "I'm starting to understand why so few people are offered canonization – it'd take Biblical patience to put up with all these incessant phone calls."  
"At least y'all can slap a phone blocker on 'em," Rogue observed. "We still got the crowd at the gate to deal with. Every time someone gets in sight they all start yammerin' again. 'S almost as bad as when the big secret about mutants got out, 'cept this time there's less protesters an' more reporters."  
"Not to say we're not getting more than our share of protesters," Kitty added. "The Professor was right. There's a whole lot of people angry about this, and they're trying to blame Kurt for it. And then there are the protesters showing up to protest against the protesters…"  
Ororo sighed. "Charles was more right than he knew– this is bringing both sides of the mutant debate out of the woodwork. It's good to see that not everyone wants us killed on principle, and I suppose we should be happy that the Church is willing to accept us, but what a price to pay…"  
"Especially for Kurt," Rogue said. "Never seen that boy so worked up."  
"Well, he totally said this was gonna happen," Kitty pointed out. "We just didn't realise what he meant until it was, like, way too late to do anything."  
"Good thing he's not the sort to say 'I told you so'," Ororo commented dryly.  
"Nah," said Logan. "If the Elf says anythin' lately it's a list of things he's gonna do to Popsicle. Boy's on a routine of sleep, eat, and beat the hell outta the Danger Room."  
Ororo raised an eyebrow at him. "You almost sound concerned about him, Logan."  
"Hell no. I'm just pissed that he's hoggin' the Danger Room all the time. Elf's clockin' up more time in there than I am an' it's makin' me look bad."

Hank made his way into the den, looking around. "Hmm. I thought Kurt was in here. I don't suppose any of you have seen him?"  
Logan looked up. "He ain't in the Danger Room?"  
"No, I checked there. He's not in the kitchen, either, and with the hordes waiting at the gates he's not too eager to go outside at the moment…"  
"Did you check his room?" Kitty asked.  
Hank nodded. "Actually, I looked there before I checked the Danger Room. I suppose he could have made his way up there since, though…"  
Scott appeared in the doorway behind him. "Actually, I was just about to say I'd looked in Kurt's room and I can't find him anywhere."  
"Ah." Hank frowned. "Well, does anyone know where he might be?"  
"He's still kinda paranoid about Bobby and Jubes," said Kitty. "I would've thought he'd be hiding from them."  
"Don't forget Rahne," Rogue added. "Every time he bumps into her she starts raggin' on about theology an' why it's so great he's gonna be a Saint… he's been avoidin' her like the plague."  
"Huh," said Scott. "So… where the heck is he?"  
"Where is who?" said the Professor pleasantly behind Scott. "Perhaps while we find whoever you're looking for we can find Kurt. Has anyone seen him?"  
"Why's everyone looking for Kurt?" Rogue wanted to know. "Has somethin' new happened?"  
The Professor blinked. "Well, I was only going to see how he was handling the stress."  
"I was going to make sure he hasn't injured himself with all these workouts," Hank said.  
"I wanted to borrow twenty bucks," said Scott.  
"I ain't lookin' for him," Logan said.  
"We know," Ororo reminded him.  
"Professor," Scott said. "Could you maybe do a sweep for Kurt? Nobody knows where he is."  
"Really? Did you check the –"  
"Yes," everyone said.  
The Professor raised an eyebrow. "I didn't even say where I was thinking of yet," he pointed out.  
"Irregardless, we've looked virtually everywhere," Hank said. "And since he's not easy to find when he doesn't want to be found, I don't suppose you could comply with Scott's request?"  
"Oh, very well." The Professor closed his eyes. "Though I'm not sure I see the…"  
He trailed off, frowning. "What is it?" asked Rogue.  
"He's not in the mansion, so far as I can see… I'll just sweep the grounds…"  
"Maybe he's out in the trees," Logan suggested. "Needed some fresh air or somethin'."  
"If he is, I can't locate him… he doesn't seem to be…"  
Suddenly the Professor's eyes sprang open.  
"Oh dear."  
"Where is he?" Ororo wanted to know. "Is he alright?"  
"Oh, he's perfectly fine."  
"Then where is he?" Scott demanded.

----

Kurt sighed as his cellphone rang. Putting down the newspaper he was reading, he dug the phone out of his pocket and answered it.  
"Hello?"  
"Kurt!" Scott's voice bellowed over the phone. "Where the hell are you?"  
Kurt paused. "Wait, that's a trick question. You already asked the Professor to find me, didn't you? So you know where I am already."  
"That's not the point! Why the hell are you in town?"  
"Because I was sick of being cooped up inside," he snapped back. "I couldn't go outside without those _verdammt_ paparazzi screaming at me, and I was bored. There's not much to do at the Institute when you don't feel like socialising, have you ever noticed that?"  
"I don't care! Kurt, you know what the Professor said, it's dangerous for you to be out in public right now. Especially if you're on your own."  
Kurt sighed. "Look, I changed my watch setting, okay? Nobody can recognize me. I'm just another guy."  
"That's not the point and you know it."  
"True, but I don't care very much right now."  
Scott's voice changed tone slightly. "Kurt, come home. Now."  
"No."  
"Are you making me pull rank on you? Kurt, I order you to get back to the Institute right now."  
Kurt rolled his eyes. "Um, what was that?"  
"I said I order you to –"  
"You're breaking up, I can't hear you."  
"Kurt!"  
"Hello? Scott?"  
"Kurt, don't you dare –"  
Kurt hung up.  
"_Arschloch_."

----

Scott slammed the receiver down and glared at it venomously.  
"I don't think he's coming back."  
Kitty shrugged. "Guy's pretty grumpy, Scott. Did you really think he would?"  
"I ordered him to!"  
"Yeah, and he's got such a great track record of following your orders up to now…"  
"Shut up."  
"Children?" the Professor cut in. "If you don't mind?"  
"Sorry, Professor," they mumbled. He smiled.  
"Excellent. Now, Scott, if Kurt won't come quietly I'm afraid you'll have to go and get him. He's in a foul enough mood, which explains why he won't listen to you, but he is at risk out there. If you could go find him, please?"  
"Fine," Scott grumped. "Guy better have a nicer attitude when I find him, though."  
"When we find him," Kitty corrected. "I'm coming for a ride, I'm bored."  
"Seconded," agreed Rogue.  
"Where are we going?" Jean wanted to know, walking up.  
"Kurt ran away and we're going to get him back," Rogue explained.  
"Oh, okay. I call shotgun."  
"No fair, you can't call it 'til you see the car… Jean? Damn it, Jean, get back here – hey! Jean!"

----

Sighing, Kurt rose from the park bench and stretched. It was fairly unusual for him to actually have to go to the middle of a town to be alone, but then things were hardly usual right now. The energy drain of the multiple 'ports had been alleviated by a quick refuelling stop at a hot dog stand, and already he was feeling it was well worth the effort just for five blessed minutes of silence, calm, quiet, with nobody recognising him or shouting at him…  
"Well howdy there, Fuzzbumps," Pietro said.

Kurt shut his eyes. "Shut up. I'm doing a monologue about how good it is to be alone right now."  
"Oh, sorry." Pietro sat down on the bench. "Let me know when you're done."  
"Too late, you ruined it." He opened his eyes again and glared at the speedster. "What do you want?"  
Pietro grinned at him. "Oh, I was just out for a stroll and thought I'd better pay my respects to Saint Nightcrawler."  
Kurt growled. "How did you even recognise me?" he demanded. "I don't look anything like my usual disguise."  
"Fuzzbumps, ol' buddy, I used to work with Mystique. If I can pick her from a mile off, you really think a new hologram is gonna hide you from me? Besides, I heard you on your phone a second ago." Pietro smirked. "You tell me how many people in this town would be chatting with Captain One-Eye in a German accent."  
"Damn it." Kurt glanced down at his watch, made a face, and switched it back to the original setting. "Well, if it's no use, may as well not bother…"  
"That's the spirit," Pietro said agreeably. "If it's too hard? Give up."  
"So did you want anything other than to annoy me?" Kurt wanted to know.  
"Hey now," Pietro protested. "I just told you. I wanted to pay my respects to Saint Nightcrawler."  
"So you're saying that you did just want to annoy me?"  
"Pretty much, yeah," he agreed. "Am I doing a good job?"  
"Fantastic," Kurt said sarcastically. Then he looked sideways at Pietro. "So… everyone knows about this, then? The canonization thing?"  
"Yup," Pietro agreed. "Nobody knows quite how you did it, but everyone's impressed. Dad's a big fan. Even he hasn't been able to plant people in the Church yet, but you managed it without hardly even trying? Impressive."  
"I didn't try at all," Kurt corrected him. "I was against the whole thing from the start! It was all Bobby's idea."  
"Huh," Pietro mused. "Remind me to congratulate him on a job well done, then."  
"I'll be sure to do that."  
"Yes. But anyway!" the speedster rose to his feet. "We'd better get going if we don't want to be late."  
Kurt eyed him suspiciously. "Late for what?"  
"Oh, didn't you hear? One of those mutant support groups is holding a rally down at the stadium this afternoon. Apparently they're really excited about mutants being accepted as a part of society. The rest of the gang's already there, but I went for a run while I wanted for the speeches to start – and hey, here you are!"  
"I am not going to a rally."  
Pietro pouted. "Aaw, but you'd be the guest of honour…"  
Kurt glared at him. "Does it look like I care?"  
"Hmm." Pietro ran an eye over him. "No, not really, it doesn't. Huh."  
"Right then."  
"Still, that never stopped me before."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurt demanded.  
"It means think fast!"  
Abruptly Pietro shot forward, colliding with Kurt at high speed and slinging the Elf over his shoulder in a fireman's hold; and before Kurt could recover he sped off, winding through the trees of the park and making a beeline for the stadium.

The trip lasted less than half a minute before Pietro skidded to a halt and unshouldered the still-dizzy Elf. Kurt leaned against a wall and panted for a moment before glaring at the speedster.  
"Where are we?" he demanded.  
Pietro grinned. "Like I just said, the rally at the stadium! Me and the others are up near the back. Look for Freddy, you can't miss him."  
"What?"  
"Come on, you're here now, you gotta say something!" Pietro insisted. "It'd set the entire event on fire, you know?"  
Kurt crossed his arms grumpily. "I said no."  
"And I said think fast!"  
"Wait, wha–"  
In a flash Pietro was standing behind Kurt, shoving him in the back. Kurt stumbled, nearly tripped, and staggered forward to keep his balance…

…and suddenly he'd stumbled out from behind a makeshift curtain onto a stage. In front of what looked like hundreds, if not a full thousand, uplifted faces.  
Kurt felt his inner temperature drop ten degrees.  
The speaker behind the microphone faltered as she saw him; the crowd looked surprised for a moment before one person in the front row began to jump up and down in excitement.  
"That's him!" the individual in question shouted excitedly. "Kurt came after all!"  
The cry was taken up by the rest of the crowd as the one who'd recognised him – who Kurt now remembered from his Chemistry class – received a hearty pat on the back from his neighbours. The woman with the microphone broke out in a thousand-watt grin and advanced on him just as Kurt looked up to see Fred's unmistakable bulk at the top of the bleachers. Pietro was now sitting on Fred's shoulders and giving him an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.  
"Ladies and gentlemen," the speaker gushed, "I give you the star of the day: the soon-to-be Saint Kurt Wagner!"

As the crowd broke into an uproar, the microphone was pressed into Kurt's hand. Too stunned to resist, he grasped it like a life preserver, muttering under his breath, and it was only luck that the noise of the crowd entirely drowned out the first words he spoke.  
"Oh, _Schiesse_…"


	7. St Kurt the Assassinated

**Chapter 7: St. Kurt the Assassinated**

"Um," said Kurt. "It's really good to see you all here today."  
The crowd cheered.  
"And I'm happy that there are so many people who are willing to, uh, accept Mutants. Despite our differences. And stuff."  
More cheers.  
"I, uh, don't actually have a speech ready, so I'm sort of making this up as I go. Sorry about that."  
Laughter and applause.  
"…no, I'm serious…"  
More cheers.  
The lady who'd given Kurt the microphone nudged him. "This crowd is mostly people who've been discriminated against, or had a loved one discriminated against, because of a mutation. They're here because they think that's about to permanently end."  
Kurt covered the microphone with one hand. "That's great, but what do I tell them? I seriously don't have anything to say."  
"That's my point. These people are in such a good mood they could listen to you read from a phone book and they'd lap it up." She paused. "You really came here without preparing a speech?"  
"I was… uh… dropped off," Kurt said. "As a surprise. Of sorts. I never had time to, you know, write anything."  
"Oh." She shrugged. "Well, tell them what you think of all this, then. How it feels to be nominated, that sort of thing."  
Kurt paused. Then he shrugged and removed his hand from the microphone.

"All I can really say is that I don't deserve the level of honour I've been given," he told the crowd. "Really, this is something way above me."  
The crowd howled its disagreement; Kurt waved one hand.  
"No, I'm serious. There are a lot of people who've done a lot more for the world than me. This is all ridiculous."  
More howls of protest.  
"Stop arguing with me! I'm making a point here – I do not deserve to be made a Saint. I'm serious."  
The speaker stepped up beside him and spoke into a second microphone she'd apparently gotten from off to one side. "And he's modest as well, folks – isn't this wonderful?"  
Kurt lowered his mike. "What are you doing?"  
"Honey, I know the humility thing is part and parcel of it all, really. But these people want to hear something cheerful."  
"I'm not cheerful! If they want to hear me say something it won't be cheerful, because I'm not cheerful! I am trying to tell them that this is all a horrible mistake!"  
"Listen to me," he said, raising the microphone again. "This is important. You're making me out to be some kind of hero, and I'm not. I'm just a guy, and there is no way I deserve this kind of –"

And then the gun went off.

----

_Professor?_ Jean asked mentally. _Where did you say Kurt was again?_  
_Well, he was in the park when I found him before,_ came the reply. _But I can't seem to find him there now. Probably he moved when he knew we'd found him._  
_Right,_ Jean agreed. _Because I just can't find him anywhere. I'm doing sweeps, but there's nothing like his signature anywhere._  
_Yes, I know. And there's an awful lot of interference coming in as well. Lots of people producing some very loud thoughts…_  
_You're telling me, Professor. Heck, probably Kurt went there to hide or something. He'd know we would have trouble finding him there._

A police car tore its way past Scott's convertible, siren wailing. Then another, and another – and more sirens were approaching from the distance.  
"What the hell?" Scott asked.  
"Something's going on," Kitty observed. "I wonder where all the police are going?"  
"Huh," said Rogue. "Looks like they're all headed for the stadium. Must be somethin' goin' on there."  
"I just hope Kurt doesn't head over to do some kind of good Samaritan act," Scott said. "Like the Professor said, making a public appearance is just asking for some nutjob with a gun to come after him."  
"Any idea where he is, Jean?" Rogue asked.  
"The Professor and I are scanning now," Jean said without opening her eyes. "Now shush and let me concentrate."  
_You get any of that, Professor?_ Jean asked. _Any chance Kurt went to wherever the cops are headed to see if he could help out?_  
_It's a possibility,_ the Professor agreed. _Give me a moment to check and see…_  
Aloud, Jean said, "Kurt's not at the park anymore. The Professor is just checking for a nice general area to look."  
"Well, tell him to hurry up," said Scott. "All of these sirens when we're looking for Kurt are making me nervous."  
Jean opened her mouth to say something; an ambulance tore past, sirens wailing, and she waited to speak. Then, before she got the chance, the Professor's voice came into her head.  
_Jean? Follow the police cars. Quickly. I don't know how much time we have._  
_What's wrong?_  
_There was a pro-mutant rally at the stadium. Kurt was there, for whatever reason, and there was a sniper in the audience. Everyone's too panicked for me to get a good idea of what's happening, but so far as I can tell the sniper's still on the loose. And I can't find Kurt anywhere._  
"Oh my God."  
Kitty looked at Jean. "What is it?"  
Jean's eyes snapped back open; she shoved Scott on the shoulder. "Drive! Follow the cop cars as fast as you can!"  
Scott pressed his foot down on the gas, feeling the powerful engine respond. "What happened? Did the Professor find Kurt?"  
"No, he found something a lot worse. Faster!"  
"What'd he find?" Rogue wanted to know.  
"Exactly what we were worried about when Kurt went off on his own. Someone's trying to kill him and the Professor can't find Kurt anywhere."  
The other girls' mouths dropped; Scott felt his insides lurch as his numb foot slipped off the gas pedal.  
Then Jean smacked him in the back of the head.  
"Don't you dare slow down, Scott. We have to get there right now. Step on it!"

----

"Hey," said Lance. "You know what would be fun? If, just once, we went somewhere and it didn't end with people running around screaming."  
"This time it wasn't our fault!" Pietro protested. "This was totally unrelated."  
"I never said it was our fault. I'm just saying."  
"So, uh…" Fred scratched the back of his head. "Shouldn't we, um, do somethin'? Like, about the guy who was shootin' an' stuff?"  
Lance blinked. "Why?"  
"Well. 'Cause he was shootin' at Fuzzbutt."  
"And this is our problem… how?" Pietro wanted to know.  
Wanda sighed and glared at him. "Because someone who'd shoot Nightcrawler at an event like this one is a big anti-mutant lunatic," she informed him. "So if someone's taking pot shots at him, it's someone we should be trying to deal with too, okay?"  
"Oh, okay."  
A noise up above made Lance look up; Todd was climbing headfirst down from one of the stadium spotlights, a frown on his face.  
"Didn't see where the guy with the gun went," he reported. "An' Fuzzbutt's gone too. I ain't got no idea where."  
"Well duh," Pietro said. "He teleported away with that speaker chick when the shooting started. If the guy's got a brain he's probably on the other side of town by now."  
"That's the problem, yo. Fuzzbutt ain't got no brains. He'd be hangin' around tryin' to catch the bastard what was shootin' at him," Todd pointed out. "So where is he?"  
"You are entirely too worried about the wellbeing of a guy you're supposed to hate," Wanda observed. "Seriously. I wonder about you two sometimes."  
"Yeah," said Lance. "I always said that when you two fight, you spend a lot of time wrestling and not a whole lot of time actually hurting each other. It's kinda… you know…"  
"And wasn't it your idea to come to this whole thing? Like, a public celebration in his honour?" Fred put in.  
"Jerks," said Todd.  
Pietro slung an arm around his neck. "Now Toddie, there's nothing to be ashamed of. The two of you have such a lot in common…"  
"He's gonna kick yo' ass too?"  
"Down, tiger."  
"Toad," corrected Fred.  
"Tiger sounds cooler," Pietro argued.  
"Yeah, but it's not right."  
Todd pointedly ignored them both. "I'm serious, yo. We got a mutant-hatin' whacko who's packin', and a hero who ain't showin'. Somethin' ain't right."  
Wanda shrugged. "What's so complicated? Maybe the shooter got him."  
Lance started. "Whoa now, hang on a second. You think so?"  
"Sure, why not? He's not bulletproof. And aren't you supposed to hate him too?"  
"Doesn't mean I want the guy dead," Lance shot back. "This is serious!"  
"So's a lot of the stuff we've been through," Wanda pointed out. "You weren't exactly worried about his health through most of that."  
Todd and Lance exchanged a glance.  
"This is different and you know it," Lance finally said. "When it's mutant on mutant, that's one thing, but this…"  
"…if'n it's human on mutant, we're on the same team as Fuzzbutt," Todd explained. "Even Mags an' Baldy agree on that one. If mutant-haters are gonna try an' kill us all, we're on the same team when we're fightin' 'em."  
"Your point?" Pietro wanted to know.  
"That we have to play the Good Guy game," Lance said. "Someone's got to take down that shooter and try to find Fuzzbutt, and we're the only ones here."  
"Aw, man," said Pietro. "Again?"  
"Look, you were the one who found him and brought him here," Lance pointed out. "It's your fault someone got the chance to take a shot at him, so now we've got to find him, alright?"  
"Pfft, fine."  
"Alright. Freddy, you go make sure the shooter doesn't get out the front door. Pietro and me are gonna try to find the guy with the gun and get rid of him. Todd, you see if you can find Fuzzbutt anywhere."  
"What about me?" Wanda said.  
"I know better than to tell you what to do," Lance told her. "You just try not to destroy reality with a mood swing or something.(2)"  
"Wait," said Pietro. "Aren't I supposed to be in charge?"  
"Does it matter?"  
"Hmm." Pietro thought for a moment. "No, probably not. Alright, let's do what Lance said. Go!"

----

Scott leapt from the car, barking orders to the others without looking back as they scrambled after him.  
"Rogue, take the right. Kitty, take the left. Jean, you're down the middle with me, and I want you to keep us in full contact at all times. Everyone, watch your backs, concentrate on crowd control, and if you see any signs of Kurt _or_ the shooter, I want to know about it."  
"Gotcha," said Rogue.  
"Right," said Jean.  
Kitty probably would have said something similar, but that was when she ran facefirst into Fred's stomach.  
"Mfff," said Kitty.  
"Hiya," said Fred. "We was wonderin' if you guys'd show up."  
"Blob?" Scott stopped dead. "What the hell are you doing here?"  
Reaching down, Fred helpfully removed Kitty from her position between the folds of his belly. "We was here when Fuzzbutt showed up. Pie found 'im in the park an' brought him over to say a few words, an' then some nutjob started shootin'."  
"Pietro brought him here?" Jean asked. "That figures."  
"Hey," he protested. "We never knew this was gonna happen or we wouldn't 'a done anythin'. This ain't our fault!"  
Kitty rearranged her hair and scowled up at him. "And what were you even doing here anyway, Blob?"  
Fred blinked at her, confused. "Uh, this is a big meetin' thingy that says mutants is good, ain't it? An' we're mutants, so we figured it'd be somethin' to do."  
"You wanna say that a little louder?" Scott hissed. "I'm pretty sure there's a guy across town who didn't hear you."  
"So why are you standin' at the entrance to the stadium?" Rogue wanted to know. "Where'd the others get to?"  
Fred shrugged. "I'm guardin' it. When the shootin' started, Fuzzbutt done teleported somewheres with the chick that was on stage with 'im. The guys an' me split up to find 'im, or at least the guy who was shootin'. I'm guardin' the door in case either of 'em tries to get out here."  
"Wait," said Jean. "You mean this isn't your fault, but you're still doing the right thing? And you're actually trying to help Kurt?"  
"We was bored," Fred explained.  
"Of course you were."  
Scott nodded and stepped around Fred. "Alright, Blob, you might as well stay here. Everyone else, this doesn't change things; just tell any of the Brotherhood you meet what the situation is, okay?"  
"Okay, got it," Kitty said. "Can we go already?"  
Fred waved as they went in. "Bye-bye."

-------------------------------------  
(2) Really, _House of M_ was just too much in the way of making Wanda powerful, wasn't it? The woman gets grumpy and the entire Universe is fundamentally altered? Give me a break.


	8. St Kurt the Deus Ex Machinated

**Chapter 8: St. Kurt the Deus Ex Machinated**

"Fuzzbutt! Yo, Fuzzbutt? You back here?"

Todd hopped through the dark covered area behind the stage, wishing he'd suggested the gang go to the movies today instead. Movie theatres didn't get attacked by anti-mutant nutjobs half as often as pep rallies, if you believed the news; and even if they did, you could get out safely without being roped into playing hero for the guy you were supposed to be arch-enemies with. At this rate, if he found any more common ground with the Freakshow he'd have to get himself a new nemesis.  
"Fuzzbutt! Fo' fuck's sake, where are you?"

"He's not going to answer to that, you know," came a voice behind him. Todd squeaked, started, and mis-hopped into a stack of dusty chairs that had been stored backstage.  
"Smooth," said Kitty.  
Todd glared up at her from the tangle of plastic furniture. "The hell you doin' here?"  
"Same as you, apparently. Looking for Kurt."  
"Yeah?" He scrambled to his feet. "Well you wanna try doin' it without scarin' the shit outta me? In case you didn't know we got a fool who's packin' and huntin' down any mutants he c'n find. Last thing I need is you sneakin' up behind me like that."  
"Whatever." Kitty looked at him with distaste. "Why are you even, like, trying to help Kurt in the first place? Aren't you supposed to hate him?"  
Todd shrugged. "Yeah, so? Mags an' Baldy hate each other too, but they team up every now an' then when they got bigger problems. This guy doin' the shootin' is as bad for the Hood as it is for you X-Geeks, so I figure we gotta put aside our differences, nameen?"  
Kitty snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it. Where have you looked?"  
He waved a hand. "All 'round here backstage. Ain't seen hide or hair o' his fuzzy ass."  
"Fine." Kitty turned. "Come on then."  
Todd raised an eyebrow. "You askin' me to stick around wit' you? That ain't right."  
"See, there's a mutant-hatin' foo' what be packin' and huntin' down all yo mutant bruthaz," Kitty mimicked. "As you so kindly pointed out. And you might as well be a human shield for me as anything else."  
"Aaw, you think I'm human? Nicest thing you ever done said to me, yo."  
"Toad, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you just sound semi-retarded with most of the things you say. If you hadn't noticed, you are not black."  
"Keep talkin' and you gonna be green," he shot back.  
"Jerk."  
"Bitch."  
"Whatever."

----

On the other side of the stadium, Pietro and Rogue caught sight of each other at almost precisely the same moment. Pietro's face lit up, Rogue pressed hers into the palm of her hand, and a split-second later the speedster was standing in front of – but just out of reach from – the girl in question.  
"What's up?" he said by way of greeting.  
"The odds of me rippin' you a new one if Kurt turns up with so much as a bruise 'cause of you," she growled back.  
Pietro looked offended. "Hey, is that any way to greet an old friend?"  
"We weren't friends. You tried to peek on me in the shower and I spat in your coffee."  
"Yeah, we had some good times. So you're here looking for Fuzzbut too?"  
Rogue shot him a withering look.  
"Whoa, easy!" Pietro held up his hands. "No need to get all grumpy at me just 'cause Mister Celebrity got himself a few enemies…"  
"Actually there is," Rogue pointed out. "Freddy spilled the beans an' told us you're the reason Kurt's here in the first place. Which means this is kinda your fault, now don't it?"  
Pietro considered this. "I guess, if you wanna get technical. That's still no reason to be rude, though!"  
Rogue's glare got darker.  
"Please don't hurt me," said Pietro.  
Rogue cracked her knuckles. "You give me one good reason why I shouldn't drain your sorry ass right now."  
"Um, the first one would be that the way you phrased that sounds really disgusting."  
"Pietro…"  
"Alright, alright. The second is that if you do that I'm gonna be inside your head, and it's just not right to put the mind of such a hot, available guy inside the body of a girl who cannot physically get laid. That's like the plot of a bad Disney film."  
For a long moment Rogue said nothing. Then Pietro sighed.  
"Man, now you're mad at me again, aren't you?"  
"Oh, yeah," Rogue agreed. "I've killed for less than that and you better be damn sure I'll do it again. Good thing you got a point or I'd have you dead as a doornail by now."  
Pietro looked surprised. "I had a point?"  
"Yeah. Last thing I want is your damn voice in my head all day. I'd have to kill myself after the first ten minutes."  
"So this means I get to live?" Pietro wanted to know. "Wait, wait. This means I was right? Oh, awesome!"  
Rogue kicked him in the shin.  
"Ow! Fuck, what was that for?"  
"Said I wasn't gonna kill ya. Never said I wasn't gonna hurt ya."

Turning, Rogue started to walk away; abruptly Pietro was standing in front of her again.  
"Hey, where are you going?"  
Rogue blinked at him. "Um, I'm lookin' for Fuzzy. Didn't we just do this?"  
Pietro crossed his arms impatiently. "I mean, why are you going off on your own? It's dangerous around here."  
She gave him a withering look. "What, an' you're gonna protect me?"  
"Heck no, I want you to protect me. This sniper guy might be dangerous!"  
"Nice to see chivalry ain't dead."  
Pietro rolled his eyes. "Look, there's only so much ground in this entire stadium, and all of us are looking. Don't you think there's gotta be something for safety in numbers? I mean, what if this guy actually recognises you as being from the Institute?"  
Rogue paused, then sighed. "I hate it when y'all badguys have a point."  
"So we're sticking together then?"  
"Alright, but you better not piss me off."  
Pietro snorted. "Oh come on. We both know how successful threats of physical violence work on me."  
Rogue nodded. "I know. So here's the rule: every time you say somethin' that makes me mad, that's one more time I'm gonna take a pair of scissors to that hair o' yours."  
Pietro went somehow even more pale. "I'll be good."

----

"I was wondering when you'd get here, Summers."  
Scott and Jean turned at the sound of Lance's voice to see the tall young man moving through the milling crowd toward them. Scott's features tightened.  
"Alvers, what the hell is going on here? Do you have any idea-"  
Lance raised one hand. "Is this gonna be your usual speech on why you're awesome and I suck? 'Cause we can just skip it, I've heard it before."  
"Our friend is being hunted by some psycho mutant-hater!"  
"And we're trying to help your buddy and catch the shooter. Not only are we being the good guys, we actually beat you to it for once. Now quit whining, will ya? You sound like a nagging wife."  
Scott's mouth shut like a trap, and Jean hid a smile behind one hand; Lance strolled up to them, still looking around.  
"Pietro and me are looking for the shooter," he informed them. "Todd's off somewhere looking for Fuzzbutt… I think he went backstage. And Freddy's guarding the door."  
"Yeah, we met Fred on the way in," Jean said. "What about Wanda?"  
Lance raised an eyebrow. "You want Wanda to help? Fine, go ask her. I'll wait."  
"Fair point."  
"Did you get a look at the guy with the gun?" Scott wanted to know. Lance shook his head.  
"Nope. He was up near the front of the stage, but we never caught a look at him."  
Jean's lips tightened. "That must have been almost point-blank range…"  
"Yeah, but I checked the stage," Lance told her. "Couldn't find any blood, so there's no sign the bullet hit anyone. If Nightcrawler took a hit he got out of here before it started bleeding."  
"That's a big comfort," Scott muttered. Lance shrugged.  
"You asked. I answered. Look, we may not exactly get along great, but I don't want to see the Fuzzbutt killed any more than you do. If this is an anti-mutant thing it brings us all down."  
Scott waved one hand in agreement. "Alright, alright. Well then, now what?"  
"Well, I'd say we keep looking until we find something."  
"Works for me." He glanced at Jean. "Any idea where the others are?"  
She pointed. "There. Coming up both sides of the stage at once, apparently."

Pietro's face lit up as he saw Kitty and Todd mounting the far side of the stage as he and Rogue made their way up the steps.  
"Wow," he commented. "Looks like anybody really can get a date at one of these gigs."  
"That's one," Rogue told him.  
Pietro's face fell; before he could say anything, Todd and Kitty had wandered up to them.  
"Find anything?" Kitty asked. Rogue shook her head.  
"No sign o' Fuzzy or the shooter. Only thing I found was Captain Quickie here."  
Kitty snorted. "You had better luck than me. Sure you don't want to trade?"  
"It's good to be loved," Todd said.  
"How would you know what it's like to be loved?" Pietro wanted to know.  
"You're a good friend," Todd told him.  
"I do what I can."  
Rogue looked around. "I don't like this," she said to Kitty. "You know what Fuzzy's like. If there's someone runnin' around tryin' to kill people, first place I'd look for him is right at the front tryin' to stop it. But I can't see him anywhere…"  
"Don't even suggest it," Kitty warned. "There's any number of reasons why we haven't found Kurt yet, so don't you go tempting fate."  
Rogue nodded. "Okay, then what now?"  
"Hmm… Kurt teleported, so he could be anywhere right now," Kitty said thoughtfully. "So if we can't find him, what else is there?"  
"Whoever was tryin' to bump him off probably ain't a mutant," Rogue pointed out. "So he has to still be here."  
"Right," Kitty agreed. "Then we go after the shooter."  
Pietro saluted. "Yes m'am!"  
Kitty glared at him. "That's two, mister."  
Pietro's eyes widened. "Wait, you – how the hell can you possibly know about that?"  
"You wanna try for three?" Rogue asked.  
"Dude." Todd patted Pietro on the shoulder. "Just let it go."  
"Over there," Kitty pointed, ignoring them both. "I can see the others… let's go find out if they've got anything."  
Making their way to the front edge of the stage, they jumped down one by one. Todd was last, looking out over the crowd. For a moment he paused, looking at a tall man clad in leather jacket and a bright red baseball cap; then he stiffened, eyes going wide.

"Lance!"  
Lance spun at the sound of his name to see Todd, crouched on the stage with one long, thin arm pointing rigidly. He followed the finger to a guy near him, skinny and probably in his twenties, wearing a red hat – and then Lance felt all his hair stand on end as he saw what Todd had glimpsed.  
Just visible under the guy's jacket, tucked into the waistband of his jeans, was the telltale bulge of a pistol.  
Before Scott or Jean could react, Lance moved. In two steps he reached the guy, clapping one hand down on his shoulder –  
-and then a blonde girl to his right pistol-whipped him across the face.  
In the time it took Lance to fall onto his knees, Blondie and baseball Cap had backed away, guns drawn. A third man with horrible acne pushed through the crowd to their side, dragging a young lady with him that he'd evidently just grabbed as a hostage.  
"Nobody come any closer!" Zitface shouted, pressing his gun against the girl's head. "We're here on God's business, so don't try to mess with us!"  
"Oh, here we go," said Pietro.  
"Mutants are the spawn of the Devil himself," Blondie declared. "It's almost sickening that you were taken in by his charade."  
"Worshippers of false idols, you shall be cast down," Zitface howled in apparent agreement.  
Baseball Cap looked around, brandishing his gun. "Kurt Wagner is a liar and a deceiver of hearts," he shouted. "We came here to show it, and look at him! He runs from us, he runs from God – would a real Saint do that?"  
Scott stepped forward. "Look, there's no need for guns, okay? Just relax…"  
In answer, Baseball Cap fired his gun at the roof, shattering an overhead window. Scott stepped back just in time to avoid the rain of broken glass.  
"I was less than ten feet away," Baseball Cap challenged him. "I couldn't have missed. Would God have let that happen to one of His chosen? The mutant is dead and back in Hell where he belongs!"  
The entire group of mutants stepped up at that, the insult cutting on top of the suggestion that Kurt was dead. The three assassins took a step back, but their expressions only hardened. Blondie removed a rosary from under her shirt and clutched it in her free hand, levelling her pistol at Scott's stomach; Zitface tightened his grip on his hostage and sneered; and Baseball Cap aimed at the centre of Scott's forehead and narrowed his eyes.  
And then, spectacularly, Kurt appeared.

A long shaft of sunlight had stabbed down from the broken window, lighting the broken glass on the floor and making it glitter and sparkle. Kurt materialised directly in this beam of light, the smoke of his teleport hanging in the air like and ethereal mist. The bright light shining onto him contrasted with his image inducer, already a source of light, so that Kurt himself appeared to shine with a dazzling radiance as though lit from within.  
"Put the guns down," he said clearly, extending one empty hand toward the three shooters. "You see? You didn't do anything. Murder proves nothing. Lower your guns."  
All around, the crowd was stunned by his arrival. The assorted mutants were stunned by the sheer idiocy of Kurt standing directly in front of the loaded guns of his would-be assassins. And the three killers were stunned by Kurt's evident non-demise.  
Out of all of them, however, it was Zitface who overcame his shock first, and he demonstrated this by turning his gun on Kurt, aiming directly at the Elf's head, and firing off a single shot. In rapid succession, Blondie and Baseball Cap did the same.

Everyone screamed and dove for the floor, except for the mutants; as one they surged forward, a split-second too late. Kurt staggered back a step, his eyes wide with surprise, and he looked down at himself just as Scott caught him from behind.  
"Kurt! Kurt, are you okay?"  
The Elf pushed him away gently, still wide-eyed in astonishment. "_Ja_, I… I'm fine…"  
The shooters gaped at him in disbelief as the Elf remained on his feet; then Zitface jumped slightly as something twitched at the end of his gun. Shocked, he dropped it to the floor just as a set of long, thin legs appeared at the end of the barrel.  
Then a magnificent blue butterfly crawled out, tested its new wings gently, and took to the air.  
All around them, the crowd looked on in awe as the butterfly rose up to the broken window, joined by two more from the barrels of Blondie and Baseball Cap's guns. None was more astonished than Kurt, his jaw sagging open in utter shock. Only Rogue looked around the crowd, as if seeking conformation for what she was seeing; by chance she looked up onto the bleachers to see the Scarlet Witch. Wanda gave a small, ironic salute and went back to her book. All in a rush, Rogue realised what had happened, and she opened her mouth to say it – but too late.  
"It's a miracle," shouted a voice from behind her. "He appeared from nowhere and stopped the bullets!"  
"God protects him from harm!" piped up a woman nearby. "He has saved His chosen from the murderers!"  
All around them, people were taking up the cry. Kurt just looked around slowly in utter disbelief at what had just happened to him. Then he shook his head.  
"No, no, this isn't a miracle! This is just another mutant at work, can't you – look, it's not a miracle, will you please stop saying – are you even listening to me?"  
The rising voice of the crowd drowned him out completely. Helplessly he turned, by chance catching Blondie's eye. She managed to hold his gaze for no more than a second, before completing his astonishment by bursting into tears.  
"It's a miracle!" she sobbed. "You… we were wrong…"  
The gun dropped from her hand to the floor as Zitface released his hostage. Baseball Cap just stared at him, wide-eyed, before lowering his own gun.  
"Forgive us," he whispered, the words lost in the din but readable on his lips. "Lord forgive us, we doubted."  
Before Kurt could do or say anything he dropped to his knees before Kurt, hanging his head. Blondie and Zitface followed suit, and it spread like a wave; as one, the entire population of the grouped stadium fell to their knees, still crying Kurt's praises. Within seconds, only the mutants remained standing, Kurt still a dazzling beacon of radiance in the shaft of sunlight.  
"Well this isn't going to make things any easier," Jean said at last.  
"Amen to that," Kitty agreed.  
For his part, Kurt just raised his eyes, looking up through the beam of sunlight into the sky above, and said, "Oh, now come on – that's just not fair."


	9. St Kurt the Inebriated

**Chapter 9: St. Kurt the Inebriated**

The Professor rubbed at his forehead. "So let me see if I understand the situation," he said.  
"Shoot," Scott agreed.  
"Kurt was kidnapped in the park by Pietro, who saw through his holographic disguise, and taken to a pep rally being held in his honour that we knew nothing about. Once Pietro had pushed him up on stage, three highly religious members of the Friends of Humanity took it upon themselves to prove Kurt did not enjoy God's protection by attempting to murder him. Kurt not only dodged the bullet, but then disappeared while the Brotherhood, later aided by you, made a bungling effort to find out what had happened, which culminated in the assassins about to kill all of you. Instead, Kurt appeared to stop them, and by the unlikely combination of an errant beam of sunlight and the Scarlet Witch performing a spontaneous act of goodwill, a thousand people are now convinced they saw Kurt perform a miracle that he didn't actually have anything to do with." The Professor took a deep breath. "Does that cover it?"  
Jean nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."  
"So Kurt is now famous for having performed a public miracle, on top of everything else."  
"Yeah, pretty much," said Kitty.  
"Damnation," said the Professor.  
Rogue brushed her hair out of her face. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Hank tittered. "My stars. And here I was convinced that not even Kurt's vaunted skills at flaunting Murphy's Law could make things worse."  
"Where is he now?" Kitty wanted to know. "How's he dealing with this?"  
"There's no need for concern," Hank assured her. "He's dealing with it in a very adult manner."  
"What's that?"  
"He's in his room and he's extraordinarily drunk," Ororo said. Kitty looked startled.  
"What? You said he was dealing with this in an adult manner…"  
"And so he is," Hank said. "I'm an adult, and in his situation I'd be drinking too."  
"Where did he even get the booze?" Rogue asked. Hank failed dismally to hide a grin.  
"I believe he managed to pilfer a bottle of Logan's best bourbon," he informed her. "It took him around thirty minutes to work his way through it, and now he's making quite a dent in whatever other alcohol he can find in the mansion."  
Scott looked astonished. "He finished an entire bottle in half an hour?"  
"Nobody has ever said Kurt lacked stamina," Hank pointed out. "Besides, he's of legal drinking age in a country where beer is practically a food group. It's no surprise he's developed a high tolerance."  
The Professor sighed and looked at Jean. "Nevertheless, I think we should talk to him. Jean, if you'd be so kind as to call him down here?"  
Jean looked at him like he was crazy. "No."  
"What?"  
"Professor, with Kurt's constant existential crises, nightmares, self-esteem problems and five hundred other issues, his head isn't a fun place to be at the best of times. Right now he's all that, plus he's drunk, hysterical, violent, angry, and going through a major theological revelation and a crisis of faith." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You want someone to use telepathy to get inside his head? Fine. You do it."  
The Professor blinked. "I… don't think I will, when you put it like that."  
"Thought you might decide that."

After what had become known as the Bayville Miracle, Kurt had reacted much as expected: he'd stood around being grumpy for a while, then teleported away as soon as nobody was looking. Of course, it was only after he left that the police had arrived to ask questions, delaying the others by over an hour. By the time Scott, Jean, Kitty and Rogue had returned to the Institute, Kurt had been back for the better part of two hours and was locked in his room, drunk as a lord. They'd eventually found the Professor supervising the Danger Room and explained the situation, and it had now been over three hours since the incident at the stadium.  
"So what do we do now?" Jean asked. "The case for Kurt becoming a Saint only got stronger, and we've already said we can't retract the offer. We'd make too many enemies."  
"For once, I'm completely out of ideas," the Professor admitted. "I agree we have to do something, but I'm utterly stumped as to what. Any suggestions?"  
"Kurt could change his name an' move to Georgia," Rogue said. "That's the only way I can see him gettin' out of this in one piece."  
"Any rational suggestions?" the Professor asked. Hank shook his head.  
"Charles, I'm afraid that may be about as rational as we're going to get. If Kurt is rejected by the Church, it'll become more cannon fodder for groups like the Friends of Humanity. If we withdraw his nomination this late in the game, we'll earn the animosity of the Church. If we do nothing, Kurt's going to have a nervous breakdown." The blue doctor sighed. "I really am afraid we've run out of options."  
Scott gave a low whistle. "Wow. Bobby and Jubilee really managed to mess things up this time, didn't they?"  
Kitty looked out of the blast window at the Danger Room floor. "And here I was starting to feel sorry for them."  
Everyone looked down to where Logan had been beating the merry hell out of the two miscreants for the last hour, just in time to see Bobby picked up by the scruff of his neck and thrown across the room.  
"I still feel a little sorry for them," Ororo said. "Logan wasn't in the best of moods to begin with, but when Kurt stole his bourbon he became nasty."  
The Professor reached over and pressed the intercom. "Logan, I think they've had enough. If you could come up here, please? You probably need to hear what's going on."  
Below them, Logan stopped to catch his breath and gave a small wave of acknowledgement. Bobby and Jubilee climbed to their feet, supporting one another painfully, and hobbled toward the blast doors.

Behind them the door to the control booth swung open and Ray wandered in. For a moment he looked around at everyone gathered together; then his brow knotted in confusion.  
"Hey," he said. "What's going on?"  
"We're just discussing the problems with Kurt becoming a Saint," Scott said.  
Ray shook his head. "No, not that. I mean, what're you all doing here?"  
The Professor raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, Ray?"  
Ray peered out the window, catching sight of Logan, and his frown deepened. "I mean, if Wolverine is down there and you're all in here, who the fuck flew off in the Blackbird about half an hour ago?"  
There was a pregnant pause.  
"Uh-oh," said Kitty.  
"Wolverine's working out, you guys are having a meeting…" Ray shrugged. "There ain't anybody left who can fly that thing."  
Scott turned and banged his head softly against the wall. "Yes there is. Kurt."  
"Elf boy? Thought he was passed out in his room."  
"As did we," Ororo agreed. "But if he's not…"  
Hank looked alarmed. "Either Kurt is three sheets to the wind in charge of a fighter jet, or else somebody stole it. Which one's worse?"  
"The first one," Scott said instantly.  
"Definitely the first one," Kitty agreed.  
"That's probably true," Hank conceded.

Suddenly a ringing sound came from the console. The Professor had installed telephones in the Danger Room in case of an emergency, and one was now lit up and demanding attention. Ororo answered it.  
"Hello?"  
"Uh, hello?" came the voice at the other end. "Who is this?"  
"This is Ororo Monroe from the Charles Xavier Institute. Who am I speaking to?"  
"Oh, thank God." The voice at the other end sounded relieved. "Ms. Monroe, this is Warren Worthington. You remember me? The guy with the wings?"  
She blinked. "Of course I remember you, Warren. What seems to be the problem?"  
"Well, it's the darndest thing. You see I… I've sort of been kidnapped."  
"Kidnapped?"  
Everyone in the control booth suddenly became very interested in what Ororo was saying. She put the phone on speaker.  
"See, I was on the roof," Warren's voice went on. "Just about to go for a fly, you know? And then all of a sudden, something hits me in the back of the head and I pass out. Then when I wake up, I'm in a plane flying over the ocean."  
The Professor shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh, please no."  
"Warren?" Ororo asked nervously. "Who kidnapped you?"  
"See, that's the thing," Warren said. "It was your buddy Nightcrawler."

----

"What the hell's going on?" Warren had demanded, rubbing the back of his head. Kurt had spun around from the controls of the jet, eyes shining with drunken agitation.  
"You're coming with me," he announced. "We are on a mission from God."  
"A mission from God," Warren said flatly.  
"_Ja!_"  
"There's a problem. We aren't dressed like the Blues Brothers."  
"No, no! Not that kind of mission." Kurt shook his head. "We're off to see his holiness the Pope."  
For a long moment Warren stared at him. Finally he said, "You're drunk."  
"Right!" Kurt enthused. "That's the plan!"  
Warren blinked. "You… you know, there's not really an answer to that."  
"You see, it was a disaster," Kurt lamented. "They're trying to make a Saint out of me, Warren. A Saint!"  
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Congratulations."  
"No!" Kurt howled. "That's the whole point! It's a mistake! That's why we're going to visit the Pope. We're going to show him what a mistake this is."  
Warren rubbed at his temples. "And being drunk is part of this plan… how?"

In a bound, Kurt leapt from the pilot's seat to Warren's, leaning over the older man. "Look at me," he ordered. "Do you think I would make a good Saint based on how I am right now?"  
Kurt was panting in agitation, wafting clouds of sour, bourbon-reeking breath all over Warren. Together with this was the stench of sulfur from recent teleports and the smell of sweat from Kurt's unwashed body, producing a ripe bouquet of stench that nearly made Warren gag. On top of the smell, Kurt's yellow eyes showed red lines around them from alcohol and stress, his facial muscles were relaxed from inebriation into slackness, and his mouth hung open, letting a long string of drool hang from one razor-sharp fang. To cap it all off, Kurt had turned off his inducer, and was in his full demonic glory; not to mention that with every move he made, a puff of blue fur floated in the air from stress-induced shedding.  
"You know," said Warren, "I don't think I'm really qualified to give my opinion on that."  
Kurt looked delighted. "Exactly! Nobody is!" Satisfied that Warren had taken the point, he stood back up on unsteady feet and beamed at him. "Nobody is qualified to give their opinny on anything regarding me."  
"Opinion," corrected Warren.  
"Of course, _ja_, that's what I said. Opinny." Kurt bounced back to the pilot's seat and looked out the window, tail whipping the air in excitement. "We are going to show his holiness that this is a mistake! That nobody can decide except me if I'm worthy of becoming a Saint! Then all of this will go away, you'll see."  
Warren cocked his head in thought. "That," he said at last, "is so brilliantly stupid that it'll probably work. If you don't want to become a Saint, getting drunk and abusing the Pope until he stops liking you is definitely one way to do it." He raised a finger. "So why the hell do you need me?"  
Kurt pointed at him. "Because you're my backup," he said gravely. "You're going to make sure that everything works out okay."  
"What?"  
"Don't you see?" he demanded. "We're the same, you and me! Cut from the same cloth!"  
"Oh, sure," said Warren. "We're a couple of peas in the same horrible, horrible pod."  
"Zigacktly." Kurt nodded his enthusiasm. "Everyone looks at you and they think you're an angel so you have to be good. You get judged on how you look and nobody thinks you're a person, just a thing. You know what it's like!"  
Warren frowned. "Well, I guess I know what you mean, but…"  
"And it's the same for me! My whole life everyone treated me like some _gottverdammt Teufel_. They didn't know, or care, what I was really like. And now they feel sorry for me so they're doing the exact opposite without good reason?" Kurt snorted. "No thank you."  
"So…" Warren was struggling to understand. "You want to insult the Pope into withdrawing his offer of making you a Saint, and you hijacked me as moral support."  
"Zigactkly. It'll all go ferpecktly."  
"…I think your English is failing."  
"It doesn't matter!" Kurt shouted gleefully. "In a few hours, we won't need English at all!"  
"What? Why won't we…" Warren paused. "Oh my God, we're headed to Italy, aren't we?"  
"_Ja_. Our destination is the holy Vatican City."  
"…"  
"…"  
"Oh, this is not going to end well."

----

The group in the control booth was silent for a long moment, thunderstruck by the revelation. Then Scott shook his head.  
"Drunk logic. Kurt's going after the one person who he might be able to convince to cancel the canonisation process."  
"Warren, have you tried talking him out of it?" Ororo asked.  
Warren's voice laughed bitterly. "Oh, sure. For about ten minutes. Then I tried turning the plane around."  
"What happened?" Hank asked.  
"The blue bastard teleported me outside the damn jet! I was only lucky I managed to get back to the door as it passed me."  
"You got back in?" Jean said, astonished.  
"Yep. Nightcrawler opened the door himself, bid me welcome aboard the _Good Ship Lollypop_ and kissed me on the cheek."  
"And where's Kurt now?"  
Warren's voice sounded slightly more relaxed. "He passed out a few minutes ago. I tried to turn us around, but he's got the controls locked into Autopilot and I can't turn it off without a password, so I was wondering…?"  
The Professor sighed in relief. "Well, at least things are under control. Warren, the password is _Ellipsis_. Once you've got Autopilot turned off, the Institute is a preset coordinate, so you shouldn't have any trouble resetting it."  
"Alright," Warren said. "Give me a minute."

The minute passed tensely; then Warren's voice came back on the line.  
"Uh, you guys still there?"  
"Of course," Hank said. "Did it work?"  
"No." Warren sounded alarmed. "It just keeps flashing the word _falsche_ at me."  
Ororo groaned slightly. "German for 'incorrect'. Kurt's changed the password."  
"What?" Warren demanded. "You mean there's no way for me to turn this damn autopilot off?"  
The Professor shut his eyes and sighed. "I'm afraid not, Warren."  
"Oh, come on. That's not fair."  
"What do we do?" Jean asked. "We can't let Kurt anywhere near the Pope like this…"  
"Indeed not," the Professor agreed. "Warren? We're coming after you. You don't have that big a head start, so with luck we won't be far behind."  
"What about me?" Warren asked.  
"Just do whatever you can to keep Kurt busy," he ordered. "Anything at all, so long as it distracts him from trying to find the Pope."  
"…alright, but you guys had better find us soon."  
"We'll do our best, Warren. Talk to you again."

The line went dead as Warren hung up; Ororo did the same on their end and turned just as Logan walked in the door of the control booth. For a second he looked around at the contrite expressions on everyone's faces. Then he sighed.  
"Alright, alright. What'd I miss?"  
The Professor moved his chair toward the door. "A lot. Come with me, I'll explain on the way to the Velocity. Suffice to say, we have a pilgrimage to make."  
Logan raised an eyebrow as he made way for the Professor. "An' where are we headed?" he wanted to know.  
Scott was the one who answered him. "Apparently? We're headed to the holy Vatican City to visit his holiness the Pope."


	10. St Kurt the Anticipated

**Chapter 10: St. Kurt the Anticipated**

"Uuuuurg."  
The noise from the other side of the plane made Warren sit up and look around; Kurt was conscious and looking around blearily.  
"Are we there yet?" he wanted to know. "I'm starting to feel… not good."  
"Just before we move on, I think I might need a fair warning," Warren said. "What kind of not good are we talking about?"  
Kurt staggered to his feet. "There is a nasty little man inside my head who is hitting my brain with a board that has nails sticking out of it," he said.  
"Eloquent," Warren noted. "Actually, I was worried about any bodily fluids that you may suddenly vent in my direction. Any risk of that happening?"  
"Not before I get to a bathroom, at least."  
"Good. In that case, we're about twenty minutes from our destination, if the on-board computer is accurate."  
Kurt looked startled even through his hangover. "I slept for that long?"  
"You downed enough alcohol to kill and preserve the remains of a Plesiosaurus. I'm surprised you woke up at all."  
"But the important thing is that I did," Kurt agreed. "Which means we won't lose any time."  
Warren looked crestfallen. "You mean you're still going through with this stupid plan even though you're sober?"  
"I'm not sober," Kurt corrected him. "I'm sober-er. And we are still going through with the plan."  
"I don't want to go through with the plan!"  
"You'll come around," Kurt said cheerfully. "Now help me get into the bathroom before I start with the venting."  
"Help yourself. This isn't my damn jet, and I'm not the one who's going to have to clean it if you defile it."  
"You're no fun," Kurt informed him, swaying slightly on his feet.  
"This plane is no fun. While you were passed out for the last couple of hours the only thing I've had to do is read a couple of trashy romance novels I found lying around." Warren tossed a book onto a chair in disgust. "I don't know what a heaving manblossom(3) is. I don't want to know what a heaving manblossom is. All I know is that I want the people responsible for this book to die."  
"Well said." Kurt staggered off toward the back of the jet. "Now, if you'll excuse me?"  
"Do me a favour," Warren called after him. "When you go back there, could you maybe get lost or something so I don't have to deal with you anymore?"  
"I'll do my best."  
"Thanks."

----

"How long until we get to the Vatican City?" Scott asked.  
"Get your elbow out of my ribs," Jean grumped.  
"I would if I could," Kitty shot back.  
"Around forty minutes, Scott," Ororo told him.  
"So phase. Then neither of us will be cramped."  
"Yeah, 'cause I'll be, like, outside."  
"At this point I'd only see that as a positive move."  
"I can't feel my legs," Rogue announced. "Ain't got nothing below my hips."  
"And how long until the Blackbird gets there?" Scott enquired.  
Kitty grunted. "Quit shoving me!"  
"Then move your elbow," Jean scowled. "It's been jabbing my ribs for five hours."  
"That's not my fault!"  
"It is your fault. You're bony. Your elbow hurts and it's bony and it's your fault."  
"Oh please, meanwhile you're in need of like, a tighter sweater or a boob reduction, 'cause every time we hit turbulence it's like, hey, you're gonna bounce up and put my eye out with those things."  
"They oughta be there in about ten minutes, Scooter," Logan reported.  
"Bony-butt," Jean snapped.  
"Jiggle-jugs," Kitty growled back.  
"Everything about this conversation is wonderful," declared Bobby.  
Rogue said, "It's like… I know my butt is there, okay? But I can't feel it. Nothin'. It's like I'm sittin' on a pound of raw hamburger."  
"Any chance we can go faster?" Scott called.  
"What's worse is when you finally get up," Jubilee observed. "You're gonna get hella-bad pins and needles in your butt."  
"Aaw, hell," Rogue pouted. "Not in the butt. I hate pins and needles in my butt."  
"I stand corrected," Bobby said, "this conversation is even better."  
"I'm afraid not, Scott," the Professor informed him. "We're overloaded with nine people on board as it is. This is our top speed, I'm sorry."  
"You're too skinny."  
"Your boobs are too big."  
"Somebody pinch me, I can't feel my ass."  
"I am so happy right now," said Bobby.  
"Professor," Jubilee said. "There's not much room for us all back here."  
"Thank you for the ten-minute update, Jubilee."  
"You're welcome."  
"How much longer now?" Scott asked weakly.

----

"Kurt!"  
"_Was?_"  
"The computer says it wants to land soon!" Warren called. "How do you stop this damn thing?"  
Kurt appeared from the back of the jet, armed with a half-empty bottle of Vodka. "Alright, alright, I'm coming."  
Warren looked blankly at him. "You're drinking again."  
"_Ja_. It hurts, sort of, but it's making the hangover go away."  
"…I'm not sure I want you to take over the controls anymore."  
"I got us this far," Kurt pointed out. "Though if you want I could just let you handle them. Do you know how to fly this thing?"  
Warren glared at him for a moment; then he deflated and walked away from the pilot's chair. "This is so goddamn stupid."  
Kurt settled himself into the seat and grabbed the controls with one hand, taking a swig of his bottle with the other. "Relax, _mein Freund_, it could be worse."  
"How could this possibly be worse?" Warren demanded.  
"We're attempting to land a strange, unmarked fighter jet in the middle of the Vatican City and the Italian Army has no idea who we are or what we want," Kurt said in a distracted tone as he switched the jet over to manual. "When you think about it, things could be a lot worse."  
For a long moment, Warren stared at him, wide-eyed. Then his wings sagged.  
"I hate you so freaking much."  
"_Nein_, don't be silly," Kurt told him. "You love me. Now come here and help me pick a landerning spot."  
"…landerning?"  
"_Ja_, to lander this plane."  
"You mean land?"  
"Whatever. Come help me."  
Shaking his head, Warren made his way back to the front of the plane and peered through the windshield. "Well, how about that building?"  
Kurt looked at it appraisingly. "It's big enough, but is it close to the Vatican?"  
"I don't know. Where is the Vatican?"  
"I don't know either."  
Warren blinked. "Then I guess it's as good a place as any."  
Kurt gave a demented grin. "Then let's land this chicken."  
At that, Warren opened and closed his mouth a few times. Eventually he said, "I don't know if that was drunk gibberish, bad English, or just insanity."  
"It shall be a mystery forever," Kurt agreed. "Now, seatbelts! I'm about to fire the reverse thrusters."  
"What the hell? Jets don't have-"  
Before Warren could finish, Kurt pressed a button on the control panel; Warren was thrown forward to connect face first with the windshield as powerful reverse thrusters kicked into action, bringing the plane into a spectacular mid-air stall.  
"This one does," said Kurt.

Warren roared in protest as his face smeared against the glass as Kurt pressed another button, this one marked **Retrograde Thrusters**. Warren was bodily peeled off the windshield by gravity and thrown onto the floor as the Blackbird fired into hover mode.  
"Why are you doing this?" Warren wailed. Kurt's demented grin got bigger.  
"Because I'm drunkfaced!" he declared, and turned the retrograde thrusters off. The plane dropped like a stone; Warren was flung off the floor, smacked headfirst into the ceiling, bounced off, and began hovering in midair, shrieking wildly.  
"Don't worry," Kurt called to him over the noise. "We're nearly there."  
A mere one thousand feet up in the air, Kurt reactivated the retrograde thrusters. Warren faceplanted on the floor again, cutting off his howls; the supports of the jet creaked, groaned, and miraculously held; the downdraft from the thrusters started twin fires on the rooftops of two buildings nearby; and slowly, the Blackbird – wildly cackling Elf, dismally wailing Angel, screaming thrusters and all – came to a gentle, perfect landing on the rooftop Warren had specified.  
Kurt unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at the dazed Warren. "See?" he said, sounding absurdly pleased with himself. "No problem."  
"Uhhhn."  
"You were screaming for nothing."  
"….i hate you…"  
"Now come on!" Kurt bounded forward and dragged Warren to his feet. "We have to get going!"  
Too stunned to resist, Warren allowed Kurt to drag him forward, over to the door. Then he opened it to reveal three _Polizia_ helicopters, hovering in the air around the Blackbird, all with armed men inside training their weapons on the two mutants.  
"Look!" said Kurt excitedly. "Helicopters!"

Warren, feeling his strength miraculously returning, tugged at Kurt's arm. "I see them. Kurt, close the damn door!"  
Kurt shook his arm free. "_Nein_, this is good! They can tell us how to get to the Vatican!"  
"I don't think that's what they have in mind."  
One of the policemen shouted something in Italian at them through a megaphone. Kurt cocked his head to one side.  
"Did you catch that? I wasn't listening…"  
"I don't speak Italian," Warren said quickly. "But he sounded very angry and I think we should get inside the jet and close the door now."  
"Bah!" Kurt made a face. "If they won't tell us, I'll find someone who will tell us! Follow me!"  
Before Warren could grab him, Kurt darted away, bounded off the rooftop like a cat, and leaped over the edge of the building. The men in the helicopters started waving their arms, and one of the helicopters followed Kurt. The rest stayed where they were.  
Warren just took a deep breath, crossed himself, unfurled his wings, and dove after Kurt.

----

"Excuse me!"  
A short blonde woman on the sidewalk shrieked as a blue-furred demon dropped from the sky and landed in a crouch in front of her, tail lashing the air. "Do you know where the Vatican is?" he asked.  
"Kurt!" The demon looked up as an angel descended next to him, looking furious. "Will you leave the poor lady alone?"  
"_Was_? I was just asking for directions and…" turning, he noticed that the blonde lady had fainted. "Are you alright?" he asked her unconscious body.  
"You forgot your damn hologram thingy," Warren growled at him.  
"Ha-ha!" Kurt stuck his tongue out and brandished one wrist. "That's where you're wrong, because it's right here!"  
"Then why the hell haven't you turned it on?" Warren demanded.  
Kurt blinked. "Because this way I get more attention," he said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Warren closed his eyes.  
"That's kind of the problem, you stupid Teutonic wino…"  
"I am not stupid!" Kurt cut in. "Now come on, there's a restaurant over there. Someone inside should be able to tell us where the Vatican is."  
"Kurt! No!"

The diners of the restaurant in question did not react well to Kurt's entrance. This was largely because it involved smashing through a large glass window and landing on all fours in the middle of a table, one foot in an unfortunate elderly gentleman's soup.  
"Sorry!" Kurt called by way of greeting. "I didn't know there was a window there!"  
"Somebody stop him!" Warren shouted, running in through the open door and knocking a waitress to the floor with one errant wing. "Oh, God, sorry…"  
Warren bent over to help her up; his wings stuck out behind him and brushed the entire contents of one table to the floor.  
"I'm gonna pay for that! Don't worry!"  
"Does anyone here," Kurt shouted, "know where the Vatican is?"  
The gentleman whose soup Kurt's foot was in jabbed him in the leg with a fork. Kurt howled, jerked his foot away, and promptly fell over into the lap of a buxom young brunette. Upside-down, he beamed up at her.  
"Hello," he said. The brunette screamed, pushed him onto the floor, and poured her glass of wine over his head.  
Kurt gasped, spluttered, and glared at her. "That," he said, "was totally un-called for!"  
Across the restaurant, Warren turned to apologise to the people whose meal he'd swept off the table; in turning around, he belted the unfortunate waitress in the face as she was climbing to her feet and knocked her to the floor again.  
"Oh, crap, I am so sorry…"  
Then someone bonked him in the head with a thrown bread roll.  
Kurt was trying to scramble to his feet when the idea really caught on; someone at a table nearby poured a tureen of gravy over his head. As he was turning on them, a plate of noodles hit him in the face and three large spoonfuls of mashed potato squished into his back.  
Warren fared no better. After a few body hits he wrapped his wings around himself in a protective cocoon, but that only made the patrons of the restaurant pelt him harder. Pieces of chicken, roasted vegetables, bowls of salad and slices of pie splattered against him from every angle as he howled his unhappiness, trying to protect his face and see his way to the door at the same time.  
By this time Kurt had been reduced to crawling on all fours, wailing miserably as he scrambled toward the door. A shortcut under a table got him kicked mercilessly; he leaped into the air to escape, throwing the table back in disarray and knocking over another in the process. A large cream-filled pastry burst directly in his face, and he screamed in protest as he staggered across the threshold right behind the food-splattered Warren.  
"Those people," he shouted at Warren, "were not nice!"  
"I know!" Warren shouted back. "I just want to go home! Do you hear me? I want to go home!"  
Kurt glared at him. "We'll go home when the job's done!" he roared. Then he turned away and toward the street. Warren did the same.  
Twenty armed police cocked their weapons and sighted back at them.  
Underneath the thick coating of thrown food, Warren's face went whiter than his wings, and he seriously considered going back into the Restaurant of Hate to seek refuge. Kurt, on the other hand, drained the last of his bottle of Vodka, still miraculously held in his tail, and raised one hand.  
"Hello there," he called to the police. "Do any of you know the way to the Vatican?"

----------

(3) Seriously. I'm not sure anyone wants to know what the hell a heaving manblossom is. It can't be pleasant.


	11. St Kurt the Incarcerated

**Chapter 11: St. Kurt the Incarcerated**

"Let me outta this damn thing."  
One after another, the very cramped occupants of the Velocity tumbled out and stretched sore limbs. The rooftop around them still smouldered slightly, not quite extinguished from the downdraft of the Blackbird, parked one rooftop over.  
"Well, here we are," said Scott. "Now where the hell are Thing One and Thing Two?"  
"Anywhere but the Vatican, if we're lucky," the Professor said. "I suggest we spread out and look for any signs of them."  
"Or we could just ask," Jubilee suggested.  
"Ask who?"  
She pointed. "Those guys."

As one the group turned to see a squadron of Italian soldiers pouring onto the rooftop, aiming weapons at the mutants.  
"Aw hell," said Logan.  
The Professor wheeled his chair forwards, one hand raised in supplication. "I'm sorry for any difficulty," he called. "We're merely trying to catch the young men who hijacked the jet parked over there. We've been chasing them for the last few hours."  
For the most part, the soldiers didn't react at all. The lone exception was one man who stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "You are with those two who arrived in that plane, _si_?"  
"Yes, that's correct."  
"I will see your identification."  
Bobby's head snapped up, eyes shining. The Professor looked at the soldier for a long moment and then sighed.  
"Say it," whispered Bobby.  
"You…" the Professor shook his head. "You don't… need to see our identification."  
Bobby clasped his hands together and bounced on his heels. "This is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened," he hissed to Jean. Jean swatted him upside the head.  
The soldier blinked once; then he shouldered his weapon, saluted, and turned to bark some orders at his men, who stood down with confused looks on their faces.  
"So now what?" Kitty wanted to know. "I mean, they don't want to kill us, so, yay, but what happens now?"  
Logan snorted and stepped forward, engaging one of the soldiers in fluent Italian.  
"He speaks Italian now?" Jubilee asked Ororo. She raised an eyebrow.  
"Apparently."  
After only a moment, Logan turned back to the others, rubbing his forehead with one hand.  
"Did you find out where they are?" Scott asked.  
"Oh, yeah," Logan said.  
"So…" Rogue raised one hand. "…where are they?"  
"Those two? Hell, where do you think they'd wind up?"

----

"I've seen this on TV, you know!" Warren shouted through the bars. "I'm supposed to get a phone call! I want to call my dad and get a lawyer!"  
"They're ignoring us, Warren," Kurt said from behind him, slurring his words only slightly. "There's no point being loud."  
"Shut up," Warren growled back. "You are the last person in the world who I want advice from right now."  
Kurt sat up on the bed and frowned. "Now, that's just rude."  
"You got us into this mess!"  
"You helped!"  
Warren whirled around. "No, I didn't help! You kidnapped me and forced me to come along with you!"  
Kurt flopped back down on the bed. "Don't be so _verdammt_ negative, man. The plan's working."  
"We're in prison! How is this part of any plan and how is it working?"  
"If I'm in prison," Kurt pointed out, "I'm not likely to be made a Saint. Am I?"  
Warren tugged at his hair with both hands. "At this point, Kurt, I'm convinced that you're the absolute last person in the world who should be made a Saint. But all I care about right now is getting out of here."  
"Oh," said Kurt. "Then you can talk to them."  
Warren blinked. "Who?"  
"Hi there," said Scott from outside the cell.

"Why are you covered in food?" Rogue wanted to know. Warren looked exasperated.  
"Because this genius decided to go to a restaurant to ask for directions to the Vatican. Without his hologram on. And by destroying the place in the process."  
"Yeah, I get why he's covered in food," she said. "But how come you are?"  
Warren's shoulders sagged. "…because I got in the way trying to help."  
"You really don't look like you're having a good day," Jubilee noted.  
"Gee, you think?"  
"The Professor's trying to negotiate with the police," Scott reported. "Hopefully he can get the two of you out of here…"  
"Unfortunately not, actually," the Professor said, wheeling his way in. "I was able to get bail for Warren, but this is potentially an international incident. The authorities are not at all pleased with us."  
Logan looked surprised. "You couldn't talk 'em into lettin' the Elf loose?"  
The Professor ducked his head slightly. "Of course I could," he whispered, "but right at the moment, this is probably the best place for Kurt. At least he's staying put."  
"No whispering," Kurt called.  
"Sorry, Kurt," the Professor said hurriedly. "I was only saying that things aren't looking good."  
"Ah."  
"Anyway. I thought that if we split up, it might be a good idea."  
"Yeah," said Kitty. "We can do more damage that way."  
"Ororo, if you and Jean were to come with me, I think it'd be best if we went to the Vatican ourselves." He scratched his neck, looking uncomfortable. "It really is time we tried to work things out. Logan, if you please, take Warren and find a motel room so he can get cleaned up."  
"I'm coming too," said Kitty. "God, I need a shower."  
"Seconded," said Jubilee.  
"Me also," Bobby agreed.  
"What about us?" Rogue wanted to know. The Professor nodded.  
"I was hoping you and Scott, or at least one of you, would be willing to stay here and keep an eye on Kurt," he said. "A little supervision wouldn't go amiss, I think."  
"We can be cellmates!" Kurt said excitedly. Scott and Rogue looked at him.  
"I call not bein' first watch," Rogue said.  
Scott hung his head. "Alright, but you're getting me a coffee. A big one."

----

"Professor Xavier?"  
Just over half an hour from their departure from the holding cells, the trio of mutants turned to see a short man in a red cassock walking toward them from an office not far away.  
"That would be me," the Professor said, extending one hand. "How do you do?"  
"Very well, thank you," said the man in a rich but cheerful accent, taking the offered hand. "I am the Cardinal Michael Bellstrauss. It is a pleasure to meet you."  
"And the same to you. This is my associate, Ororo Monroe, and one of our students, Jean Grey."  
"Hello there," Ororo said with a slight bow.  
"Nice to meet you," Jean chimed in.  
Bellstrauss smiled at them in greeting, then returned his attention to the Professor. "Professor Xavier, if what I have been told is true, you are a friend and confidant of Mr. Kurt Wagner, no?"  
"That's correct," the Professor agreed. "Kurt is one of the pupils taught by myself and Ms. Monroe, and is a fellow student of Jean's."  
"We're good friends," Jean added.  
"Excellent," Bellstrauss nodded. "Then perhaps you might be able to confirm or deny what, as you say, a little bird has told me?"  
Ororo's expression became guarded. "And that would be…?"  
"That Mr. Wagner is currently being held by the _Polizia_ here in the City of the Vatican for an impressive list of transgressions against the beautiful city and its people."

The Professor coughed slightly. "Er, well, yes. You see, I'm afraid there's been a bit of a misunderstanding here."  
Bellstrauss looked faintly amused. "A misunderstanding?"  
"Yes, indeed." The Professor smiled weakly. "You must understand, sir, that this has been a time of great stress for Kurt. He received the nomination for Canonization without his knowledge or consent, and protested it from the moment he learned of it. Since then his social and private life has been horribly disrupted, there has been a public attempt on his life, his movements are watched by numerous parties, not all of whom have noble intentions, and the pressure on him has been enormous."  
"Exactly," Ororo agreed. "It drove him to the point where he decided to come to the Vatican to plead his case. Unfortunately he didn't quite plan his actions out properly, which led to this… well…"  
"I believe 'fiasco' would be an appropriate word here," Bellstrauss supplied helpfully.  
"…yes."  
"Excellent," Bellstrauss nodded. "I am glad to have that part cleared up. Now, as to the rumour that Mr. Wagner was, in fact, both intoxicated and piloting an unregistered combat-capable aircraft during this fiasco?"  
The mutants looked at one another.  
"Um," said Jean.  
"Please, please." The cardinal raised his hands, smiling. "I myself know how children can be, I am an Uncle many times over. Come." He turned. "We shall discuss this in my office, in greater comfort, no?"  
With a nervous look between them, the mutants slowly followed.

----

Scott leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Even in the Velocity, the trip to Italy had been uncomfortably long, particularly in the cramped conditions of the over-crowded aircraft. Now he was tired, still stretching the cramps out of his muscles, and more than a little grouchy with Kurt for the chaos he'd caused.  
Kurt, for his part, had been rambling incessantly and with increasing incoherency for the past ten minutes; now that he'd trailed off, Scott was more than happy to let his exhausted body relax to the sounds of someone playing the harmonica.  
Then he remembered that Kurt was the only prisoner in the holding cells, and sat bolt upright.  
Kurt grinned at him. "_Guten Morgen_."  
Scott looked around. "Did you… where was that music coming from?"  
The elf brandished a mouth organ and made a face at it. "Me, I'm sorry. I've been practicing but I'm not very good."  
Scott stared. "Where did you…"  
"I sold it at a shop," Kurt said cheerfully, holding his new toy up to the light.  
"Bought," Scott said. "You bought it, not sold it."  
"_Ja_, bought, that's what I said."  
"No you didn't-"  
"Shush." Kurt raised the instrument again. "I need to practice."  
"But you… you can't…" Scott shook his head. "Alright, one thing at a time. Why do you need to practice the harmonica?"  
Kurt looked at him as if he'd grown a second head. "Because I'm in jail, _naturlich_. That's what people do in jail. Haven't you seen any movies?"  
Scott tried to work his mind around that one and failed. "Alright, let's try another question. Where did you get it?"  
"I just told you, _dummkopf_, I went out and bought it."  
"…I know that, I asked where."  
"Souvenir shop down the street."  
"When?"  
Kurt appeared to think about this. "Around… three minutes ago?"  
"Three minutes ago," Scott repeated flatly. "You bought it three minutes ago."  
"_Ja_."  
"Meaning that you teleported out of this jail, went down the street, walked into a souvenir shop, bought a musical instrument, and came back."  
Kurt cocked his head. "Scott, are you alright?"  
"No, I'm not!" Scott stood up and walked over to the bars. "Kurt, you can't just go shopping. You're in jail!"  
"Of course I am," Kurt agreed. "So it's not like I'm going to get in any more trouble, is it?"  
"Yes it is, you stupid…"  
"Relax, Scott," Kurt said dismissively. "I had my inducer, I was only a couple of minutes, there's no problem. It was easy."  
"That's not the point!" Scott exploded. "You're in here for a reason! You can't just pop in and out whenever you want! You're supposed to stay put, so I can keep an eye on you, while the others try to sort out the mess you created, and that means you can't be coming and going as you please!"  
Kurt beamed suddenly. "I know what'd cheer you up," he said. "I'll get you one as well!"  
"No, damn it!" Scott tugged at his hair with both hands. "Kurt, try to get it into that thick skull of yours. What you've done could have enormous consequences. You can't just fly a fighter jet into another country because you're drunk and bored."  
"I'll get you a red one," Kurt decided, "to match your shades."  
"You have to stay put," Scott went on. "If you make things any worse than they are, it could be a disaster! You'll be an international criminal, and not even the Professor can make that go away. You'll make mutants everywhere look bad. You'll get yourself in huge amounts of trouble, and us with you! You have to start acting responsibly!  
"Maybe one with sparkles," Kurt said. "I'll see what the shop has, _ne_?"  
"Kurt, don't you dare…"

Whatever Scott had been going to say trailed off; instead he collapsed back in his seat, fuming uselessly, as Kurt vanished in an explosion of smoke.

----

"I feel refreshed," Kitty announced, tying her still-damp hair back into a ponytail. "About a million times better."  
"I feel bored," Bobby answered. "There's nothing to do here."  
"That's a good thing," Warren informed him. "You want to go play with the Blue Meanie a little? Trust me, peace and quiet is a relief after that."  
"Believe me," Jubilee said, "the last thing Bobby would want to do is go play with Kurt. Everything that's wrong with Kurt right now? His fault."  
"Not everything," Bobby protested.  
"Everything that got us sent to Italy," she corrected herself.  
"And yet nobody's thanking me for organizing the vacation…"  
"I didn't want the freaking vacation," Warren reminded him. "I got kidnapped by a drunken blue maniac and was arrested for trying to stop him getting beaten to death by a restaurant full of angry people."  
"It'll be one hell of a story to tell your kids," Bobby pointed out.  
"So will the story about how I strangled that one guy to death in a motel in Italy."  
"You strangled a guy to death?"  
"Keep talking and I will have."  
At that point, Logan came in. "Save it. Elf's called dibs on 'im, so you can't kill 'im until he's had his shot."  
Bobby looked more apprehensive than comforted by this thought; Warren didn't even pause. "And who's got dibs on Kurt?"  
"That would be his girlfriend," Jubilee said helpfully.  
"Yeah," Kitty agreed. "It's a lady's prerogative. Amanda has first dibs on killing her boyfriend at all times."  
Warren blinked. "See, this is why I don't date New York girls."  
"We're not from New York," Jubilee pointed out.  
"I think he meant the state, not the city," Bobby put in.  
"We're still not originally from New York State," Kitty reminded him. "And I don't think Amanda is, either."  
"Fine," Warren said. "This is why I don't date you."  
Jubilee snorted. "Oh, like you had a shot. Just 'cause you're rich and handsome and educated and smooth and an angel and…"  
Jubilee trailed off; everyone looked at her.  
"…yeah, I got nothin'."

Logan cleared his throat. "Not that this ain't fascinatin'," he drawled, "but we gotta move. Somebody's gotta change shifts watchin' the Elf, an' Chuck wanted Wings here to head to the Vatican once he got cleaned up."  
Warren looked annoyed. "Wait a minute. I'm sick of being taken for rides and then used. I'm not going anywhere until someone gives me a good reason."  
Logan raised his eyebrows. "'Cause Chuck reckons havin' an angel backin' up his argument can't hurt the cause."  
"That's what Kurt said," Warren pointed out. "It sounds like you're using his logic, and I'm not exactly a fan of his logic right now."  
"What?" Bobby feigned surprise. "You don't like the logic of a drunk, unhinged, hysterical demonic mutant being made into a Saint against his will?"  
"Don't be cute with me," Warren warned him. "This whole thing is your fault. Kurt hay have dibs, but I swear to God if you don't shut up I will help him dismember you."  
There was a pause.  
"_Dismember_ is a cool word," Jubilee said at last.  
"Doesn't get enough use," Kitty agreed.  
Bobby raised his hand. "Can I get a definition, please?"  
"Use your thesaurus," Kitty said.  
"I have been, but I'm not up to the letter T yet."  
"He's gonna turn you into kibble," Logan clarified.  
"Nice analogy," Warren said.  
"I don't want to be kibbled," Bobby decided. "I want to still be… unkibbled."  
"That's not a word," Kitty told him.  
"It should be. It's expressive."  
"He's got you there," Jubilee agreed.  
Warren looked at Logan. "If I agree to help you, you have to give me full kibbling rights on whoever's pissed me off most when this is all over."  
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stop using that word."  
"Which one?" Jubilee wanted to know. "Kibble?"  
"You said it first," Bobby accused him.  
Logan turned to Warren. "Right now you could kill anyone here, me included, an' it'd only make me happier."  
"What'd I do?" Kitty demanded.  
"So we have a deal?" Warren persisted, ignoring Kitty.  
"For all I care you can run the Popsicle through a goddamn sieve," he growled. "Just so long as everyone shuts up and gets moving."  
"That's a yes," Jubilee translated.  
Warren clapped his hands together and flexed his wings. "Great. Let's go."

As they wandered toward the door, Jubilee looked speculative. "You think Scott and Rogue are doing okay?"  
"They're just keeping Kurt company while he's locked up," Kitty pointed out. "How bad could they be doing?"

----

Rogue spent some time looking at the scene before she said anything.  
"…Scott?"  
Scott looked up from his current pastime, which was tapping a red harmonica sullenly against his knee and glaring into Kurt's cell. "Rogue. Tell me you brought coffee."  
She handed him his cup, still looking into the cell. "What it God's name…"  
"Kurt decided it needed decorating," Scott said bitterly.  
Rogue nodded dumbly, still taking it in. Party ribbons were twined around the bars and hanging from any available fixture; pages torn from magazines plastered the walls; an enormous pile of books dominated one corner of the cell; and most inexplicable of all, a large potted aspidistra(4), decorated with Christmas lights, was positioned in the center of the floor.  
"Nice pot plant," Rogue finally said.  
"It's named Bernard," Scott informed her. "Four minutes ago he was, according to Kurt, being held prisoner in an office building. Kurt's his saviour, or something."  
"But… why…"  
"I don't know," Scott groaned. "Every time I tell Kurt to stop he says it's part of some big plan and ignores me. And then every time he reappears he's got something new."  
Rogue shook her head helplessly. "So where's…"

At that precise moment Kurt reappeared in an explosion of smoke. He held an enormous sandwich in one hand, a large wine bottle in the other, and he cackled wildly as he flopped down on the bunk.  
"Rogue!" he shouted merrily. "_Wie gehts dir, meine Schwester_?"  
"God damn it, Kurt!" Scott exploded. "You promised you'd stop doing that after the last time!"  
Kurt gestured with the wine bottle and took a gigantic bite of his sandwich. "Ig warg hunnaf."  
"…what?"  
Raising the bottle to his lips, Kurt washed his mouthful down with a mighty swig of wine. "I was hungry," he repeated. "Don't be grouchy."  
Rogue pointed at Kurt. "How the hell is he still drinking?" she asked. "Shouldn't he be dead of alcohol poisoning by now?"  
Kurt raised his arms above his head in a victory gesture. "I am invisible!"  
Scott and Rogue looked at each other. "Invincible," they corrected him in unison. Kurt burst out laughing for no apparent reason, stuffed another huge bite of sandwich into his mouth, and flopped back down on the bunk again.  
"Kurt," Scott said in a pleading tone. "Are you going to stop now? You redecorated, you rescued Bernard, you got some food and drink, and now Rogue's here with me to keep you company, so that's it, right? You're going to stay put?"  
Kurt eyed him suspiciously. "Are you giving me another order?" he asked.  
Rogue saw where Kurt's mind was going and blanched. "No, no," she cut in. "Just… y'know, askin'. So we don't get in trouble."  
"Right," Scott said, desperately seizing hold of this new argument. "The Professor asked us to keep an eye on you, remember? If you run off he'll be mad at us."  
Kurt looked like he was wavering; Rogue put on her best 'good girl' face. "Kurt… bro… please?"  
The Elf rolled his eyes. "_Fein_," he said, raising his hands. "I solemnly swear not to teleport out of jail again. Happy?"  
"Delirious," Scott said flatly.

Having established this, Rogue and Scott relaxed back into their chairs as Kurt resumed his noisy feasting.  
"How long you think he'll stay put?" Rogue asked quietly.  
Scott made a face. "Until he gets bored again," Scott said. "So we've gotta keep him distracted until the Professor gets back. I don't think he's forgotten about going to the Vatican."  
"No whispering," Kurt called.  
"Sorry, sorry." Scott sat up straighter. "I was just saying that… uh, I hope you don't… um, do that again…?"  
Rogue stared at him. "What?" she hissed.  
"Shut up," Scott hissed back. "It rhymes with Vatican, it's the best I could do."  
"I said no whispering!" Kurt sat up, frowned, and cocked his head. "Do what again?"  
"Um… leave jail?" Scott said weakly. Kurt blinked.  
"Of course I won't. Didn't I just swear that?"  
"Technically you only promised not to teleport," Rogue pointed out.  
"Well, _ja_, but look around." Kurt gestured with his half-eaten sandwich. "How the hell do I get out if I can't teleport? Unless you open the door or break down the wall, I'm locked in."  
Scott managed to look relieved. "Well, that's something. I mean, the police aren't going to unlock the door any time soon, and nobody's going to smash the wall in…"  
Abruptly a blow struck the other side of Kurt's wall that shook the entire building, and a loud crashing sound coincided with a big crack appearing in the brickwork.  
"Oh for Christ's sake," Scott said, "does every damn thing I say have to tempt fate?"  
The building shook again a second blow struck, enlarging the crack; and with a third blow, the wall exploded into the cell, sending rubble flying everywhere. In its place, silhouetted in the dust, was a large human shape.  
"Come in," Kurt called.  
In response, the figure stepped forward, out of the dust and into the light.  
"Thank you," said Colossus, "we will."

----------

(4) This one's for you, 'Nutter.


	12. St Kurt the Emancipated

**Chapter 12: St. Kurt the Emancipated**

One by one, the Acolytes filed into Kurt's cell. Sabertooth glared black hatred at Scott; Gamit grinned suggestively at Rogue; Pyro and Colossus looked around the bizarrely decorated room; and Mastermind and Magneto looked intently at Kurt.  
Kurt swigged his wine, burped, and took another bite of his sandwich.  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Scott demanded.  
Magneto glanced at him. "What you, apparently, were unable to do," he said haughtily. "Releasing Nightcrawler from this… immoral incarceration."  
"That's nice of you," Kurt said cheerfully. "Would you like some of my sandwich?"  
For a long moment, everyone was silent.  
"What?" Magneto finally said.  
"Some of my sandwich," Kurt repeated. "It's delicious!"  
"…no."  
"Get away from him!" Scott ordered, stepping up to the bars with Rogue right beside him. Mastermind gave them a withering look.  
"Cyclops, don't embarrass yourself. Even if you were a match for one of us, you don't really think you stand a chance against the Acolytes united, do you?"  
"He ain't alone," Rogue growled, slipping her gloves off.  
"_Oui_," said Gambit, "but you are on the other side of the bars. An' it ain't likely you'll get through in a hurry."  
"Nightcrawler," Magneto said imperiously, "come. It is time you made your presence in this city known in a more… dramatic manner. You will be a new symbol of hope for oppressed mutants all over the world."  
Kurt's chewing slowed, and he blinked up at Magneto. "_Was_?"  
"Your acceptance by the Church will be a blow against our common enemies. Through you, so much good will be accomplished once your deification is complete."  
Pyro scratched his head. "Thought this was canonization."  
"Only for starters," Magneto told him.  
"You didn't do your homework very well, did you?" Kurt asked. The Acolytes paused.  
"What the hell're you talkin' about, Rat?" Sabertooth growled at him.  
"He doesn't want to be a Saint," Rogue informed him. "That's what this whole thing is. He came to Italy to protest his canonization."  
Kurt's face lit up. "That's right! I'd forgotten!"  
Magneto looked bewildered. "But… why would he…"  
"Believe it or not," Scott spat at him, "not everyone shares your dreams of megalomania. In fact most people don't. Kurt doesn't want to be your slave, he doesn't want to be a Saint, he doesn't want to be anyone but himself, and we're just trying to help him with that!"  
Magneto's face darkened. "You would dare speak to me like that?" he demanded. "Everything I do, every action I have undertaken has been for the benefit of our kind, and you have done nothing but stand in my way! Decades of prejudice could be undone, thousands of lives could be saved through the chance being offered to Nightcrawler, and you would throw it aside?"  
"I'd do what's best for my friend!" Scott shouted.  
"By whose definition?" Magneto roared. "Your friend would achieve a dream few have ever approached! He would be a hero in the truest sense of the word! You do nothing but what Charles orders, regardless of the price to others!"  
"Don't you dare tell me about the price to others!" Scott roared back, veins standing out on his forehead.  
"Guys?" said Rogue.  
"No-one has sacrificed more for the cause than I!" Magneto ranted, ignoring her completely. "I have lost those dear to me, thrown away a life's work, all for the greater good – and a band of schoolchildren led by a misguided dreamer would lay it all to waste!"  
"Okay, let's just calm down," Rogue tried to interject.  
"If we're so lousy," Scott spat, also ignoring Rogue, "then what does it say about you if we beat you every time?"  
"Don't bother trying," Mastermind said to her as the two continued shouting at the top of their lungs. "They can't hear you."  
"What, are you blockin' me or something?"  
"No, they're just being very loud."  
"Oh."

Watching the debate with interest, Kurt continued devouring his sandwich and offered the wine bottle to Pyro. Shrugging, the redheaded mutant took it, downed a mouthful, and settled onto the bunk next to Kurt.  
"I get the feeling they'll be a while," Mastermind told her. "It's… not convenient."  
"You're tellin' me," Rogue said. "If the others get back an' see this, the Professor's gonna tear us a new one."  
"Maybe we could talk him down?" Gambit suggested. "It weren't your fault, _Cherie_…"  
Sabertooth and Colossus rolled their eyes, Rogue scowled at Gambit, Mastermind looked apologetic, Kurt and Pyro swapped the wine bottle, and Scott and Magneto roared insults at each other, completely oblivious to what was going on around them.  
"So what's taking your friends so long?" Mastermind asked, apparently just for something to say.

----

"C'mon, c'mon," Logan growled. "I don't wanna sit in traffic all day."  
"I am sorry," the taxi driver said, still watching the road. "This beautiful city, sometimes she attracts so many people, the streets are hard to go through."  
"Ah, it's not so bad," Warren said.  
"Says you," Bobby shot back at him. "You don't have your face in Logan's armpit."  
Kitty squirmed uncomfortably against the door of the taxi. "Remind me again why he got the front seat and we're a bunch of sardines again?"  
"Because I called shotgun," Warren said.  
"Curse shotgun," Jubilee muttered.  
"Damn straight," said Logan. "An' quit stickin' yer elbow in my ribs."  
"Ah!" the driver exclaimed. "Green light!"  
The overloaded taxi moved on.

----

"We weren't the ones who unleashed Apocalypse!" Scott bellowed, his face by now the same colour as his glasses.  
"Nor would you have ever defeated him alone," Magneto roared, who had changed his own shade to match his helmet. "Yet you insist that only Charles can make a decision for the good of the world, even though he is unwilling to make the most difficult decisions of all!"  
Pyro raised one hand. "Uh, excuse me."  
"Sacrificing others for your own cause isn't bravery!"  
"Sacrificing yourself without need is stupidity!"  
"Fellas?" Pyro waved his hand. "Hello?"  
"The Professor would give anything to help people, but that doesn't mean he's willing to risk the lives of others!"  
"And because I am, because I would risk the few – myself included – to save the many, I'm your enemy? I make the most difficult choice of all, Cyclops, in my willingness to be portrayed as a monster if it is for the greater good!"  
"Hey," Gambit said. "You to wan' to calm it down for a moment? Important stuff goin' on here."  
"You think you're a hero because people say you're an asshole?" Scott shouted, spittle flying from his lips. "Are you that goddamn crazy?"  
"I know the sacrifices I am willing to make, and that includes myself in all senses of the word!" Magneto shouted back. "I do not, and never have, cared if others perceive me as evil, because I know that ultimately the end justifies the means! I would willingly be remembered as a tyrant and a monster, so long as one day mutants survive to remember it – something Charles cannot understand!"  
Abruptly an explosion of flame billowed between the two arguing mutants, scorching away most of their eyebrows. They stepped back, covering their faces.  
"Now that I've got your attention," Pyro said in the momentary silence, "maybe you two would like to join us in the world of current events."  
"What are you talking about?" Magneto growled.  
"Um…" He jerked his thumb sideways, indicating the otherwise empty bed. "Nightcrawler's gone, for one thing."

Scott and Magneto's faces fell. "When did this happen?" Scott demanded.  
"Couple minutes ago," Rogue told him. "Y'all were too busy tearin' each other's throats out to listen."  
"He said goodbye," Colossus said helpfully, "but I think you did not hear him."  
Magneto and Scott exchanged a dark look. "Where has he gone?" Magneto asked.  
"The Vatican," Mastermind informed him. "He took two steps outside the cell, waved, and teleported away before we could stop him."  
"What?"  
"He remembered why he came here," Rogue told Scott. "An' even though he promised he wouldn't teleport outta the cell, once the wall was gone…"  
Scott and Magneto turned to one another again.  
"Oh, good work," Magneto sarcasmed.  
"You let him out of the cell!" Scott accused him.  
"You were the one who told him to go to the Vatican!" the older man shot back.  
"That was his idea!"  
"You reminded him!"  
Rogue sighed, reached one arm through the bars, and slapped both Magneto and Scott upside the head simultaneously.  
"Can y'all get back to that later?" she asked. "Right now we gotta stop him."  
"Thought you didn't want him to be a Saint?" Sabertooth put in.  
"We don't," she told him, "but we don't want the drunk bastard assaultin' the Pope, neither."  
"Oh."  
Magneto looked fit to burst; instead of resuming shouting again, however, he spun around with frosty dignity and stalked out of the cell.  
"Find him and stop him," was all he said to the Acolytes.

Scott and Rogue stepped back and exchanged a look.  
"So," said Scott.  
"Yeah," said Rogue.  
And then the two sprinted up the hall toward the exit.

----

"Ain't there another way around?" Logan demanded.  
"I am sorry, sir," the driver apologised. "This is the fastest way to the police station, the traffic will be worse on other routes."  
"Damn it," Kitty growled. "Can't the other cars just, y'know, get out of the way?"  
Abruptly, four car lengths ahead of them, a blue blur flashed across the road. Seconds behind it, an enormous metal man followed, tossing cars out of the way; behind him came the rest of the Acolytes in hot pursuit.  
"Oh, look," said Bobby, "they're gone now."  
"I think we'll get out here," Warren said to the driver, handing him some money. "Keep the change."  
The mutants spilled out of the car as all around them, people ran screaming from the destruction; they ran to the intersection and watched the stampeding Acolytes continue on their way, thundering after the elusive blue Elf while sirens rose all around them.  
"Well this isn't good," Jubilee finally said.  
"Guys!" came Scott's voice behind them. They turned to see the two cell-watchers running up to them, out of breath.  
"Kurt got out," Rogue panted.  
"We noticed," Logan growled. "What the hell happened?"  
"Acolytes showed up," Scott reported in between gasps for air. "Busted into Kurt's cell and did their usual recruitment drive. Kurt wasn't interested, left through the hole in the wall, and went after the Vatican again."  
"Why didn't he just teleport out?" Warren wanted to know.  
"Long story," Rogue said. "Anyway, now what?"  
"Now?" Logan shook his head. "Now, Chuck's gonna kibble us."  
"Yeah, well, not if we…" Scott paused. "Wait, he's going to what?"  
Kitty shoved him on the shoulder. "Shut up and move," she ordered. "We've got an Elf to catch."

Three blocks ahead, a young couple wandered down the street, pausing to look in the windows of buildings around them. At one window, the young woman pointed at a bassinet and hugged her husband; he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.  
Then a demented, intoxicated, demonic blue Elf exploded into existence three feet above their heads and latched onto the wall above the window.  
"_Guten Tag_!" he shouted happily over the young lady's scream. "Do you know the way to the Vatican, _bitte_?"  
The couple stared at him, wide-eyed. The young man made the sign of the cross.  
"The Vatican?" Kurt repeated. "Where is the Vatican?"  
Shivering with fear, the young lady pointed across the street. Kurt followed her finger to a large sign saying _Vatican_, with an arrow pointing South. His face lit up.  
"_Dankeschoen_!" he shouted merrily, somersaulted off the wall, and galloped off down the street on all fours, leaving them staring astonished after him.  
In short order, however, their attention was diverted as a group of men – two of whom very large, one of whom apparently wrapped in tinfoil – skidded to a halt in front of them.  
"Did a blue mutant come through here?" demanded the one with the bucket on his head.  
The young couple stared; Magneto twitched impatiently. "Well?"  
Wordlessly, the young man pointed south; as one, the group turned and galloped off.  
"Ta for the help!" shouted the red-haired one. Still too stunned to talk, they merely stared after them.  
When the angel flapped down in front of them a moment later, they merely pointed south, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.  
By the time the police cars screeched into the street a minute later, the couple was already _en route_ to their apartment and reconsidering bringing a child into the world at all, having decided it could be an extremely confusing place to be.

Well on his way to the Vatican, Kurt scaled a building on a street corner to look around, only to have to duck the moment he reached the top as a metal sphere that would have knocked him senseless whizzed inches over his head. On the street below, Magneto cursed; then a blast of bright red energy smashed into him and sent him flying into a nearby storefront. As Warren swooped down, trying to grab him, Kurt rolled to the side and leaped off the rooftop, and a trashcan sailed up and connected with the blonde mutant in mid-air, courtesy of Sabertooth.  
As Logan reached Sabertooth and delivered a hearty blow to the head, and Warren landed on the roof and shook his head to clear it, the rest of the assorted mutants lunged for Kurt. He leaped over their heads, landed on Colossus' back, and ricocheted off to continue on his way toward the Vatican.  
Kitty, Bobby and Gambit moved after him; before they could go three steps they were knocked over by Logan, who'd been hurled away by Sabertooth, and all four of them went down in a pile. Rogue and Pyro evaded the chaos around them and continued on their way, dodging a police car that skidded to a halt next to them.  
As Kurt turned at the next intersection, another police car almost crashed into him. He leaped onto the hood of the moving vehicle, bounded from there onto a nearby lightpole, spun around once and somersaulted gracefully back to the sidewalk. The car attempted to stop, but Magneto suddenly caught up with them and flipped it onto its back.  
Moments later, twin helicopters roared overhead, causing Magneto to look up as they nearly crashed into Warren, who was back in the air himself. Below, Scott and Colossus rounded the corner and continued their dogged pursuit of the Elf, as Kitty emerged from the wall of a nearby building and rejoined the chase. Behind them, the rest of the mutants appeared, running as fast as they could after Kurt; and bringing up the rear, one police car after another turned into the street, shouting into their radios for backup.  
And oblivious to all, Kurt led the way, cutting a path of destruction – inevitably, indefatigably leading them all directly toward the Vatican.

----

"So you see," the Professor was saying, "if you add a little lemon, it really improves the flavour and it has a soothing effect on people."  
"I will have to remember that," Bellstraus nodded. "Thank you."  
"Oh, thank Ororo for that. She's one of the finest chefs I've ever known."  
Ororo blushed. "Really, it's just an old trick I learned."  
"Of course," Bellstrauss said, "but I thank you nevertheless. Now, shall we discuss matters of greater importance? I believe you were telling me about our friend Mr. Wagner."  
"Ah, yes." The Professor nodded. "Well, I was hoping that we could put all this unpleasantness behind us. I'm aware of the seriousness of what Kurt has done, and I have no illusions that something must be done about it, but there are rather extenuating circumstances."  
"Besides," Jean added. "All of this has upset him enough. He doesn't need his life ruined any more than it already has been."  
"Exactly. We just want to end all this," Ororo put in, "before anyone is hurt."  
Bellstrauss raised an eyebrow. "And by 'put an end to all this'," he said, "what do you mean?"  
"The canonization," the Professor said simply. "The honour is beyond question, but so is the fact that it's done far more harm than good. We're trying to find a way to resolve this so that nobody loses face, but I'm afraid…" he spread his hands. "…Kurt has simply acted before anyone had time to negotiate the matter."  
Bellstrauss nodded, but with a frown on his face. "This much I can see," he agreed. "But Professor, there is still something I do not understand. The way you say this, it almost sounds as if Mr. Wagner does not want to become a Saint."  
None of the mutants said anything.  
"Does he want to become a Saint?" Bellstrauss repeated. "I feel we should have this out in the open."  
There was still no response. Instead, the three mutants stared fixedly at something behind Bellstrauss, expressions of dawning horror on their faces.  
"What is it?" the Cardinal asked, turning in his chair to look out his office window – whereupon he froze too.

Smoke was rising from the streets out the window, and the flashing lights could be seen shining through it from below. The distant sound of crashes and explosions, merged with the wailing of sirens, came muffled through the window, growing louder as they came closer.  
A group of people, half of whom dressed in body armour and spandex, were sprinting full-speed down a busy street, demolishing any vehicles, stalls or fixtures that stood in their way. Some were duelling as they ran, such as Logan and Sabertooth, who lashed out the instant they came close enough as they ran; others attempted to protect themselves from attack, such as Gambit, who bent over and covered his head as he ran while Rogue rained blows down on the Cajun's head with his own staff; and the rest simply moved as fast as they could toward the Vatican.  
Even the skies were filled. A half-dozen helicopters swooped overhead, trying to close in on the chaos, as an angel and a man wearing a bucket and a cape soared through the air avoiding them. Beneath the circling aircraft, police cars and army trucks roared in from every direction, attempting to intercept the procession of destruction as it tore a swathe of chaos through the city toward the Vatican.  
And leading the entire group by a comfortable margin, an expression of total and utterly inexplicable glee on his face, was Kurt.

"Mother of our Lord," Bellstrauss whispered. Behind him, Ororo, Jean and the Professor all stared, looking distraught.  
"So…" Jean managed after a long moment. "…it looks like Kurt's on his way here…"  
Standing up, the Cardinal knocked his chair backwards onto the floor and moved toward the door.  
"All of you," he said quickly. "Come with me this instant."  
Exchanging a queasy look, they did so.

Outside, Kurt cackled with glee as he neared the Vatican. A police car skidded to a halt in front of him; he rolled forwards, somersaulted into a handspring, landed on the roof of the vehicle, and leaped forward onto the wall of the Vatican itself.  
Still laughing insanely, he began to scale the wall, tail whipping back and forth in excitement. Rolling to one side, he dodged Magneto swooping in to seize him; using the master of magnetism as a stepping-stone he leaped into the air, grabbed an awning, and swung further around the side of the building. Warren made his move, flying in toward Kurt, only to intercept a net, fired from a helicopter. Wrapped in the mesh, Warren cursed and began to lose altitude as his wings became tangled – and Kurt climbed higher.  
Suddenly he came out before a magnificent square, a bare wall with no cover. Arrayed in the square were dozens of police and military vehicles; the circling helicopters swung around and hovered overhead; and the assorted mutants ran into the square, looking up at him. All of whom, at precisely the same instant, aimed their weapons at him and began shouting for him to stop.  
Ignoring them all, Kurt leaped up to grab another awning and swinging around it to find himself on a balcony with an open door. Turning, he gave the crowd a wave, and stepped backwards into the Vatican.  
"_Anschlag_!" came a voice behind him. Surprised, Kurt turned.  
One Joseph Alois Ratzinger stared defiantly back at him.  
"In the name of our Father," said Pope Benedict XVI with stony dignity, "who are you and what are you doing here?"


End file.
